


Dear Exchange Student

by broadlicnic



Series: Dear Exchange Student [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Badass Tatiana, Bittersweet, Curt and Barb are best friends, Curt is not smart but we love him anyway, Daddy Issues, Dick Big deserves better, Exchange students, First Time, Friendship, Gay Disaster Curt Mega, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mrs Mega is an icon, Road Trip, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suave AF Owen Carvour, Teen Angst, alternative universe, au: mid 2000s, owen and dma are different people, upper class owen, working class curt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadlicnic/pseuds/broadlicnic
Summary: Spies Are Forever but Curt and Owen are 18-year-old high schoolers in the mid 2000s assigned together on a foreign exchange.





	1. This May Call For A Proper Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Only the first chapter is written in this correspondence style. Once they actually meet, from chapter two onwards, the writing will be much more traditional.
> 
> My first time dabbling in this fandom and also my first time writing fic in a couple of years!

Dear Exchange Student,

My name is Curt Mega and I guess I’ll be your host when you spend a semester here in the USA. Don’t take this personally, but I’ve only agreed to this because my teacher, Miss Houston, is forcing me. I don’t want a stranger staying in my house. My mom will say all these nosy, obtrusive things and it’s going to be real awkward. I’m sure you’re a cool dude (are you a dude? I’ve not been told your name yet, just been asked to write this dumb letter to introduce myself) but it’s not gonna be a fun time around my mom. Plus I’m an only child and my dad ain’t around so you will literally be the only excitement in her life. She’ll probably make you do arts and crafts with her.

Anyway, if you’re cool I guess we can head out and explore the town and shit.

Curt

Dear Curt,

Thanks for your letter, as unenthusiastic as it was. I’m Owen, I’m from the UK and I agreed to this exchange trip for a free holiday. If the price to pay for that is doing needlepoint with your mother then I accept.

I understand you not wanting a stranger in your house. That’s good survival instincts! But I promise I’m not a serial killer so you’ll be quite safe with me.

My email’s owencrox@yahoo.co.uk if you want to talk some more before I arrive.

Owen

~~~

**From: curtmegazord@hotmail.com**

**To: owencrox@yahoo.co.uk**

Hey man,

Good to hear you’re not a serial killer. Sorry if I was rude in my letter. Miss Houston was forcing us to write them in class and… well, you’ll find out what Miss Houston is like when you get here.

My mom ain’t so bad really. She’s just lonely. She’s a good cook, when she isn’t so scatterbrained that she can’t remember if she’s turned the oven on. Our town’s pretty small but there’s a few cool things to get up to. Do you skate? There’s a skate park a few blocks from our apartment, a couple of diners, a movie theatre. What do British people do for fun anyways?

Curt

**From: owencrox@yahoo.co.uk**

**To: curtmegazord@hotmail.com**

Good heavens! Diners?! Where is an upstanding British male to get his tea and crumpets?

Just kidding. I live in London so the small-town American life sounds pretty exciting actually. What’s the school like? I imagine it’s not all about cheerleading and pep rallies and dances like in the films?

**From: curtmegazord@hotmail.com**

**To: owencrox@yahoo.co.uk**

Dude, I stay so far away from all that stuff. I’m on the wrestling team but that’s as far as my jock credentials go. School is…okay. My teacher, Miss Houston, is terrifying but you get used to her. If you’re stuck on homework, just ask Barb. She’s my lab partner but she lets me copy all her homework because she has this super huge crush on me. I spend most of my time alone really. The school is full of knuckleheads. Like this one guy, Sergio, all he talks about is pastries. I mean it’s great because he always gives me a pastry, but dude, get some other interests, y’know.

**From: owencrox@yahoo.co.uk**

**To: curtmegazord@hotmail.com**

A wrestler! I’ve been taking classes in karate since I was four years old. We should join forces against this Sergio and take all of his pastries for ourselves.

**From: curtmegazord@hotmail.com**

**To: owencrox@yahoo.co.uk**

You’re a funny dude Owen.

~~~

**hey owen u awake?**

**sorry i found u on msn**

**to send u this message**

**n I didnt know if ud be awake at 2am**

_Curt, time zones exist. Of course I’m awake._

_Are you okay?_

**not rly**

_Okay…_

**my dad called n my moms pretty upset**

**i know ur supposed to be flyin over in a couple days**

**wanted 2 prepare u**

_It’s fine. I’ll keep all parent chatter dad-free._

_It sounds like your parents didn’t end on the best terms._

**u cud say that again**

**my dad left when i was a baby**

**…**

**when i say left i mean he left 4 prison**

**…**

**maybe i should have mentioned that sooner**

_No, that’s your business to tell people in your own time._

_Are you okay? It must be tough._

**yea im fine. dont usually talk about him to anyone. sumtimes barb.**

**idk i just feel like ppl will judge me 4 being the son of a crook.**

**but its not like hes a bad guy. he just made some mistakes with his investments.**

_Not that it’s a problem love but why did you choose to talk to me about this?_

**did u just call me love?**

_Force of habit. I call everybody love._

**ppl may gossip about u if u do that at my school**

_We’ll pass it off as one of my adorable English quirks. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question._

**_idk. i guess its easier 2 talk 2 u about it bcoz ur so_ **

**_…_ **

**_wots the word. ur not here_ **

_I’m disconnected from the situation so can be objective._

**yes. ur smart. im intimidated.**

_Oh Curt, I am smart. But far from initimidating. Unless I want to be ;)_

**Lololol wot does that even mean?**

_Does it matter? I made you laugh, apparently._

**u did. thanx dude. anyway probably gud I told u y my pops not around b4 u got here.**

_Don’t feel like you have to share anything with me but I’ll listen if you want to talk._

**i shud probably sleep. cant believe ull be here this weekend!**

_I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight Curt._

**nite owen zzzzzzzzzzz**

~~~

_*You have one new message*_

“Hey pal. It’s Curt. I guess you’re still on the flight if I’m getting your voicemail. Mom and I have parked up and we’re waiting in arrivals. Mom’s made a sign with your name on it and a drawing of a corgi and a crown. It’s so lame I actually kind of love it.”

“Curtis, stop making fun of your mother to your friend!”

“Moooom! Anyway, see you soon. I’m so psyched!”

~~~

_*Ring*_

“Hello?”

“Curt?”

“Owen?”

“Hi. I’ve just picked up my bags from the carousel. I’m making my way to you now.”

“Oh cool! Mom, Owen’s coming. Dude you sound more English than I imagined.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not. Okay love, I’m almost there. Is your mother the tiny lady in the yellow flowery dress?”

“That’s Mrs. Mega, alright. Where are you? I don’t know what you look like.”

“Oh really? Because I see you. Maybe I’ll hold back, maintain this element of mystery where I have something over you for a while.”

“I mean, if you want us to be late for dinner…”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming. Just a moment.”

_*Click*_

~~~

“Hi.”

“Hey.”


	2. This Sensation's Overwhelming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive response to the first chapter, especially since I'm still finding my feet in getting back into writing after a long absence.
> 
> I have quickly discovered that I LOVE writing Mrs Mega.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

No, no, no. This was _baaaad._

Curt Mega could be forgiven for assuming his exchange student partner would be a skinny runt with bad teeth. He was supposed to be British. He was supposed to be smart. Television had told him this guy was not supposed to be _hot_.

Owen Carvour was up in his face before Curt had time to catch his breath. He was slightly taller than Curt, and looked down on him in a way that was endearing rather than condescending. His longer, dark hair had been slicked back by product, but the long flight had left it slightly dishevelled, so loose strands hung adorably over his glinting eyes. His build looked deceptively strong, not full of wrestler’s muscle like Curt but solid and healthy under his tight, long sleeved black shirt. He recalled a memory: he did karate. Oh shit, this guy could handle himself.

Curt Mega was totally _fucked_.

It wasn’t until he received a slap on the arm from his mother that he realised Owen was talking.

“Curtis, don’t be rude to our guest! My son, such a slacker.”

“Moooom,” Curt groaned, though he realised he was staring uncomfortably at the guy who was staying at his house for the next three months. Oh man, he was already coming off as such a creeper. His palms were sweaty. This was a disaster. He needed Barb to tell him how to behave because this was embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about it, old boy,” Owen said with a grin. “Although you look more jet lagged than I feel right now.”

“Watch it, buddy,” Curt said. This would be easy as long as he didn’t look Owen in the eyes. He busied himself with picking up Owen’s bags. “Thought we’d call at Big’s Diner on the way home. You like burgers?”

“Oh Curtis,” Mrs Mega fussed, “of course a growing boy loves burgers. You’re not one of these vegetarians, are you? You know, Janice’s daughter is a pescatarian and I don’t get it. Meat is delicious and healthy. You should all eat more meat.”

“Burgers are fine, Mrs Mega.” Owen’s laugh was soft, genuine.

“I tried to warn you!” Curt said, leading the way to Mrs Mega’s beat up old Volkswagen.

~~~

Owen Carvour’s knee was touching his own. This was hell. Why was his mom’s car so damn small? At least Mrs Mega was impossible to shut up so Owen was distracted from Curt’s frankly embarrassing staring and sweating. It was literally impossible for a person to be this handsome. It was suspicious. Miss Houston had sent this perfection to test him, that bitch.

“Curtis, I haven’t had time to clear my craft things from the spare room because Janice needed help making her gingerbread for the PTA meeting so you’ll have to make up a bed in your room for your friend, okay sweetie?”

The world was conspiring against him.

“It’s okay mom, I’ll... I guess I’ll sleep on the couch. Owen can take my room.” Oh man, when did he last change his sheets?

“Don’t be silly. You boys want some bonding time!” Mrs Mega caught Owen’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “You know, my Curtis is always bringing his wrestling buddies home and rough-housing in his room. He never lets me meet them. Or brings any _girls_ home. I think he’s embarrassed of his old ma. Do you have a girl, Owen?”

“Mom, will you stop interrogating him?”

“I’m just making conversation.”

Owen flicked his eyes to Curt, a smirk on his face. “Now, now friend. You mother is just being polite. I’m afraid there’s no time for girls back home, Mrs Mega. I attend an all-boys school, and I have so many extra-curricular activities...”

“Oh boy!” Mrs Mega squealed. “You sure will turn some heads here, handsome boy like you! Maybe get Curtis here out of the house on some double dates.”

“I’m sure your son has the potential to be a true ladykiller, Mrs Mega,” Owen laughed, and nudged Curt’s shoulder with his own. Curt couldn’t help it, he laughed too. Owen’s smile was infectious.

He knew the truth about himself. He knew he got a little excited sometimes during wrestling and needed to take a cold shower. He knew he found the tight muscle of masculine shoulders more attractive than a womanly figure. But he’d never crushed on anybody before. Everyone at school was a knucklehead. Even the pretty emo boys or the built jocks had personalities like dishwater. The couple of wrestlers who wanted to “experiment” were just a means to an end and hardly conversationalists. Owen had been surprisingly easy to talk to from the first letter, but now, seeing him in person, was like taking a breezeblock to the chest.

~~~

They ditched the diner. Curt’s mom had another one of her bouts of agoraphobia so Curt and Owen ran in for take-out. Back at the apartment, Mrs Mega offered Owen a quick welcome, showed him where the bathroom was, and disappeared into the spare room and switched on the sewing machine. Burgers and fries strewn all over his mom’s coffee table, Curt dug out his junior yearbook to point out some of his school’s more “colourful” characters.

“So his name is ‘Dick Big’?” Owen laughed incredulously, finger resting on the picture of a guy with a cowboy hat twice the size of his head.

“Dick Big Jr., actually,” Curt said. “Dick Big Sr. runs the diner.”

“Are you telling me I’m eating Dick’s burger right now?”

“Welcome to America.”

Owen yawned deeply. “Sorry love, jet lag.”

“You can go to bed if you want. I don’t mind.”

“No, no,” Owen insisted. “We haven’t had the chance to talk without your mother around yet. How are things, since last week?”

“Last week?”

“On MSN?”

“Oh,” Curt blushed a little. He remembered falling asleep with the chat still open, and cringing at the fact that he’d talked to Owen of all people about his fucked up family situation before they’d even met. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, don’t worry about it happening again while I’m here. I’ve seen my fair share of family drama.”

“Your parents not together either?”

“My parents are dead.”

_Oh fuck. Jesus Christ, Mega, just bulldozing your way into another colossal fuck up, yet again!_

“Owen, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Owen said stiffly. “This is probably a bit heavy for the first night. Tell me about Barb.”

Curt dove for the yearbook, intensely thankful for the change in conversation. He flipped a few pages and pointed to a timid-looking blonde. Her yearbook quote was something Thomas Edison said.

“She is adorable, like a little chipmunk,” Owen said with a smile. “She has a crush on you?”

“The _biggest_.”

“And? Is Barb not worth bringing home to your mother?”

“Don’t,” Curt warned. “I brought her here once for the Science Fair project and mom was already planning our wedding. Before you say anything, she’s not my type.” _I have very quickly discovered that you are my type._

“Yeah, she seems too cute to have her heart broken by Curt Mega.”

Curt turned his face away. “I’m no heartbreaker.”

“Of course not, love.” Then it happened.

They both reached for a fry at the same time. Their hands touched. _He’s touching my hand. Does he know that I like him? I feel sick._

In reality, it was a split second and Owen happily munched on a fry without a second thought. He stretched, and Curt saw a little sliver of stomach where his shirt lifted. He almost choked on his own fry. Curt really needed to get his shit together.

~~~

In the end, the sleeping situation was solved by Owen nodding off on the couch while Curt was cleaning up the food. Even though it made him look the way Barb did when she waited for him outside the boys’ locker room, Curt took a few moments to lean against the wall and watch the soft, steady, rise and fall of his chest. So these were the teenage hormones he’d been ignoring for so long. Of course the first person he’d connected with as a friend since freshman year would have to be the hottest guy he’d ever seen. Curt was the worst. Quietly, he pulled his mom’s favourite blanket to cover him over and flicked off the light. He’d rush upstairs, have an embarrassing date with Rosie Palms, not be able to look Owen in the eye for a couple days and then everything would go back to normal.

When he got to his room, his computer screen was going insane. Barb had sent him what must have been 25 nudges on MSN. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for this.

**jesus barb wots up**

_Curt! Oh my god where have you been?_

**hangin out with xchange student y**

_I got my exchange student too! She’s Russian and so beautiful and I don’t know how to talk to hot girls!_

**a hot russian? i think miss houstons a sex trafficker**

_Curt, this isn’t funny! You do sports. You’re sort of popular. Jock-adjacent._

**barb im insulted**

_Shut up and help me._

**just b urself shell luv u**

**g2g owen needs me**

He switched his status to offline before Barb could freak out even more. Great, so his tiny town of Nowhere, USA was being invaded by hot foreigners.

This was simultaneously the best and worst day of Curt Mega’s life.

~~~

When Curt Mega woke up, someone was sat on his bed.

“Morning, love.”

His eyes snapped open. His body was torn somewhere between staying rigidly still and wanting to run to the roof of his building and throw himself off it. What actually happened was he stumbled out of his bed and got his foot tangled in the sheet.

“Sorry!” Owen said behind a giggle, holding up his hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What time is it?” Curt groaned, hyper aware that he was now stood in front of the incomparable Owen Carvour in nothing but his boxers. His _laundry day boxers_.

“About 7:30,” Owen said, sounding far to nonchalant for the situation in Curt’s opinion. “I’ve been awake for hours, not used to the timezones. So I thought I’d snoop.”

“Were you… watching me sleep?” _You’re not one to judge, Mega_.

“Heavens, no,” Owen insisted. “I mean, not intentionally. “You just happened to be sleeping in the same room where I was prying into your personal items.”

Curt should have been creeped out by this. _So_ creeped out by this. This was some Angelus stalking Buffy after he lost his soul shit. But something about the wide grin on Owen’s face told him otherwise.

“Oh I can’t do this,” Owen laughed. “You look so dopey and cute and confused. Your mother sent me in to wake you up.”

Curt ran a hand through his messy hair, and picked up yesterday’s clothes off the floor in some attempt to hide his dignity.

“I’ve not offended you, have I?” Owen asked, the smile immediately replaced by concern.

“No, no,” Curt insisted, a little too quickly. “My mom is dead to me but you’re fine.”

“Sorry,” Owen mumbled.

Curt tugged on his shirt before sitting down on the bed beside Owen. “No, seriously. I can take a joke. Don’t feel bad.”

Owen smiled a little at that, and looked down at his fidgeting hands. “Is it okay that this feels awkward?”

_Oh thank God, we can talk about this._

“Dude, I know I wasn’t enthusiastic at the start, but the more I talked to you online, I was so _psyched_ for you getting here,” Curt said.

“But it’s different talking online to hanging out in person,” Owen butted in, finishing Curt’s thought for him.

“Exactly,” Curt nodded. “I’m sure by the end of today we’ll be the best of pals.”

“I’d like that,” Owen said, meeting his eyes. “I don’t have many friends back in London.”

“Charismatic guy like you? I don’t believe it.”

Owen shrugged. “It’s true. My aunt’s got me enrolled in all these extra-curriculars for my university application. I don’t really have time to hang out. She’s the one who pushed me into the exchange, provided I don’t slack off on my studies.”

“Sounds like a real ballbuster,” Curt said. “All my mom wants from me is a grandchild.”

Owen snorted. “Oh, is that all? Oh wait, hang on.”

Owen was reaching for his face. Curt couldn’t breathe.

He brought his hand away, index finger pointed out. “Eyelash,” Owen said. “Make a wish!”

Curt raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Wish time, Mega!”

Owen did _not_ want to know what he wished for.

~~~

It turned out Owen’s schedule back in London was insane. Mondays was piano practice. Tuesdays he took Mandarin classes. Wednesdays was karate. Thursday he had Debate Club and every Friday to Sunday he was doing activities for some thing called a Duke of Edinburgh Award? He wasn’t kidding when he said he had no social life.

Meanwhile, apart from the occasional wrestling practice, Curt Mega spent his spare time sneaking liquor from his mom’s stash, riding his bike around the park, and jerking off. For a while he begged his mom for a dog to give his life some purpose. His mom said he could get a dog when he made honour roll. Curt never got a dog.

They were sat opposite each other on the see-saw of the desolate park. Most of the kids in town were at Sunday School, and not many of them came to the park these days anyway. Not since the emo kids and band geeks started using it as a place to make out after school. 

“I promised Aunt Sybil I would find a karate class while I was here, and there’s a teacher who can speak Mandarin, apparently.”

“Miss Houston,” Curt answered. “She’s a polygon.”

“I think you mean _polyglot_ , dear,” Owen laughed, pressing his weight down on the seat and lifting Curt up into the air.

“Whatever, she speaks a lot of languages, okay? That’s why she organises the exchange.”

“Anyway,” Owen continued. “I can’t wait to just have some _time_. Aunt Sybil’s desperate for me to go to St. Andrew's. It’s prestigious, and the extra-curriculars are important, but I’d like to enjoy being eighteen for a while.”

“So you come to a country where you can’t legally drink,” Curt shot back, eyebrow raised.

“Admittedly, there are some kinks to my plan,” Owen conceded. They’d established a steady rhythm, rocking the see-saw seat back and forth, even though Owen was by far too tall for the thing and Curt too heavy. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can, love.”

“That’s exactly it,” Curt said. “Why do you talk like that? Calling people those things?”

“What, love? Dear? Darling?” Owen asked. “I like people to feel appreciated.”

“Don’t you worry people will assume you’re…y’know…” _Gay. Please say you’re gay._

“People can assume what they like about me, Curt,” Owen said. “They’re of no consequence to me. I only care about the people that matter.”

“I wish I was that confident,” Curt muttered. _Great, no answer._

Owen stopped the see-saw’s movement, planting his feet firmly on the ground to balance their weights. “You mean what they say about your dad?”

“Among other things,” Curt admitted. _Like “why is that Mega guy always alone? Is he religiously repressed? Did his crook dad abuse him? Does he get up to kinky shit with that Barb chick?”_

“You need to develop an internal sense of superiority, love. If you convince yourself you’re better than them, the words fall away.” Owen stood, sending Curt hurtling downwards on the see-saw. He held out a hand to help Curt up. “Come on, Curt. Let’s see what else this town has to offer.” 

Curt took his hand. He held it a fraction longer than necessary.

~~~

Within an hour, they’d covered most of the major landmarks. Big’s Diner, the Santos bakery, the movie theatre, the abandoned gym where the cooler seniors and the community college freshmen went to get high and hook up, the football field at the edge of the community college campus where seven guys in business suits seemed to gather every week to toss the pig-skin around, the pokey library, until finally, Barb’s house.

Curt thought about knocking, introducing Curt to who he probably would consider his best _(only)_ friend. But then he remembered Barb’s messages the night before. The Hot Russian. Curt wanted as much time with Owen as possible before his eye was inevitably turned by the Hot Russian.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Owen by the elbow and steering him in the opposite direction. “There’s one more place I want to show you.”

~~~

How the bunker had remained a secret for so long was beyond Curt Mega. Built at some point during the Cold War, it was hidden away in the woodlands to the north of town. He guessed the other kids at school were steered away by the bugs and rough journey through the trees, or the urban legends about some kid’s dog being sacrificed in a Satanic ritual there in the eighties. Whatever the reason, the bunker had become Curt’s little sanctuary whenever he needed to escape his mom’s issues. Barb was the only person he’d brought here.

And now Owen.

“It’s a cosy little abode,” Owen said, casting an eye around the dank walls. “Could use a clean.”

“It’s private, and that’s what matters,” Curt said. “As you’ve probably gathered, it’s hard to get some privacy around my mom.”

“And what does Curt Mega need to be so secretive about?” Owen teased.

“Hey,” Curt snapped with mock-anger. “I bring you into my sanctuary, you show me some respect.”

“Yes sir!” Owen responded with a salute. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Why would I be nervous?” Curt asked.

“Well, you have to live in my glorious shadow all day, dear,” Owen laughed, “although given your opinion of your esteemed classmates, that may be a good thing.”

“The best,” Curt agreed. That meant Owen _wanted_ Curt by his side all day, his poor, stupid, infatuated heart hoped.

“Okay,” Owen clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve been waiting for this since I got here.” He adopted a stance that could only be described as challenging, feet placed firmly on the ground, apart, with one leg forward. His arms were raised, fists balled.

“What is happening?”

“A test of strength, dear boy,” Owen said. “Who will prevail, the wrestler or the martial artist?”

Curt laughed, and charged his new friend, tackling him round the middle and sending them both crashing to the ground. Safely, of course.

Owen huffed out a breath as they hit the ground, a breath that quickly became a chuckle. “I let you do that.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Mr Superiority,” Curt replied. He was gazing down at Owen now, their legs tangled by the fall, chests pressed firmly together. His eyes flicked to Owen’s lips, and he could have been hallucinating, but he could have sworn that Owen _licked them._ Their breaths were slowing and steadying, until they were breathing in tandem. The moment was growing too long, but neither of them dared to move. Owen swallowed, and Curt watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple with wide eyes. It would be so easy to just move a little closer. They were so close already.

No, this was wrong. They’d known each other a _day_. Owen had to live with him for three months. Hell, Curt had no idea if he was even interested in boys.

But if he _was_ , if he was interested in _Curt_ , this could be the most incredible three months of his life.

“We should go,” Curt mumbled. He clambered to his feet, not even trying to help Owen up. “Mom will be wondering where we’ve got to.”

“Okay,” Owen said. He quietly brushed himself down, then stared at his feet. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made a Workin' Boys reference. And a Solve It Squad reference. YOU CAN'T STOP ME.


	3. Fixated on One Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for the kind response so far.
> 
> I'm going on holiday tomorrow, so while I'm going to continue writing this, I probably won't post any more until I get back.

_*buzz*_

“H-hello?” Curt answered groggily. The room was still dark around him, the light of the almost-full moon shining ever-so-slightly in through the curtains he hadn’t pulled closed properly. His mouth tasted thick, that awful way when you’ve drank too much soda and forgot to brush your teeth.

“Curt, did I wake you?” 

The voice jolted him awake. “Owen? What’s up? What time is it?” They’d remained in slightly awkward silence the rest of the evening after the bunker. Mrs Mega had filled the gaps in conversation easily, but nothing evolved beyond small-talk. They’d watched some TV quietly, sat on opposite ends of the couch, before Owen slinked off to the Curt’s mom’s craft room and Curt took himself to bed, quietly cursing himself until blessed sleep came. Why had he made things awkward? He was such a loser. A horny, impulsive loser.

“Three in the morning,” Owen answered. “I shouldn’t have called. Of course you were sleeping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Curt said, his voice still hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just…” he paused. Curt heard him sigh deeply. “This is going to sound so stupid.”

“No judgment here,” Curt said, “I have the market cornered on saying stupid things.”

“It’s this bloody rabbit!” Owen finally admitted. Curt knew immediately. His old pet rabbit, which his mom had taxidermied and kept in her craft room. Could he have left a worse first impression? “It just keeps _looking_ at me.”

“Oh dude, I’m sorry,” Curt said, trying to keep his voice even although he desperately wanted to laugh at the incredulity of it all. “I thought mom would have put Oleg away. Do you want me to come and move him?”

“Oh no, love,” Owen insisted, “I wouldn’t want to offend your mother.”

“We can switch rooms?” Curt suggested.

“It’s fine, but…” his voice fell almost to a whisper. “Maybe I can share with you?”

_Fuck. What God has forsaken me by sending Owen Carvour into my life?_ “…sure?”

Thus began a long few hours of Owen calmly snoozing in his bed, his head down by Curt’s feet, while Curt lay rigidly awake and desperately pictured the school secretary Susan naked to will away his boner.

~~~

Barb always met Curt at the entrance to his apartment block at 8am sharp. He had his licence, but the Megas couldn’t afford a second car since his dad’s arrest, and his mom never let him drive the Volkswagen without her, so Barb always drove him to school.

She squealed as Curt opened the door. This had been the longest time he’d gone without speaking to her all year, and it had only been a weekend.

“Curt Mega, you dreamy so-and-so, give your Barbara a hug!”

He categorically did _not_ hug Barb, not with the eyes of both Owen and a stern, leggy, redhead on him. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder and gestured awkwardly to Owen.

“Barb, Owen. Owen, Barb.”

“A pleasure,” Owen greeted. The suave bastard.

“Oh, of course!” Barb squealed again. The girl regularly spoke at levels that only dogs could here. “This is Tatiana!”

The redhead nodded coolly. She leant against Barb’s little Mini looking exactly like she was modelling the damn thing. She was perfect. It already made Curt feel sick.

“So, get in! I have so much to tell you!”

Barb was in many ways like Mrs Mega, capable of filling any silence and with the superhuman ability to speak faster than the speed of sound. In the short drive to school, Curt heard all about how Dick Big Jr’s exchange partner was from Germany and had already made a complaint to Miss Houston, how Sergio and his girlfriend had broken up for the third time that month, how Barb and Tatiana had already bonded so well over card games. Owen made the right interested noises, while Tatiana sat in deadly silence.

Barb was right that first day. Tatiana was indeed beautiful. Slim, tall, with sharp features and vampy red lipstick, Dick Big would pop a boner at the mere sight of her. But she did nothing for Curt, not the way his heart even now fluttered when he caught Owen’s polite laugh to Barb’s stories. His knee bounced anxiously in the cramped back seat, until Owen placed a hand on it to steady him. It was only a second but it was literally the sexiest thing Curt had ever experienced. Yep, Curt Mega was hella gay.

“Curt, dear, your friends are so charming,” Owen said affectionately. If Barb or Tatiana heard the term of affection, neither questioned it.

“Prepare yourself, pal, things are about to go downhill.”

~~~

“Mega!” Miss Houston roared, “could you give a worse first impression to our guests?”

Miss Houston was tough, and regularly called out Curt on his shit, but this morning literally all he had done was step into her classroom. 

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he said, quickly.

Miss Houston’s lips curled into a smirk. “That was a test. Good, you’re learning. Learning what, Curt didn’t have a clue. Learning to fear her? He’d done that since freshman year. Learning to respect her? Anyone so tiny who could make grown men tremble automatically had his respect. “I am always right and you should always apologise.”

He had to admit, with the exception of Susan the receptionist, Miss Houston was his favourite person on staff. She hated every single one of her kids, but at least she treated them like people and not children. She staged a one-woman protest when the principal told her she couldn’t smoke in her classes or on campus, until eventually he relented and said she could vape if she stood by a window. Her classroom was completely devoid of the colourful displays the softer teachers filled their rooms with for a more ‘stimulating’ environment. Miss Houston hated high school as much as the students did and that was something he could get behind.

The desks of the classroom had been pushed back against the bare walls, and that was just as well, given the numbers had doubled with all the exchange kids. Besides Owen and Tatiana, there was Dick Big with the German, who, and Curt couldn’t believe this, looked exactly like he could be Hitler’s nephew, if Hitler’s nephew was a theatre kid. He even had the side parting, but paired with guyliner. It was the strangest shit he had ever seen. Sergio was shooting puppy-dog eyes at his girlfriend Gabriella, who pointedly didn’t look at him, while their respective exchange partners rolled their eyes and huffed in silence. Spending all this time getting blue balls around Owen wasn’t too bad in retrospect. He and Barb seemed to be the only people who liked their partners.

“Alright you dumb dumbs, get in a circle,” Miss Houston barked. The room was so small, Curt found himself pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with both Barb and Owen. The back of his hand brushed against Owen’s and it sent electricity down his spine. He stifled a grin, and on his other side, Barb excitedly linked her arms with him and Tatiana.

“We’re going to let our new guests introduce themselves to the class, and you jerks are going to be respectful and listen to them and make them feel welcome, otherwise, it’s detention.”

The introductions were somehow both enlightening and tedious. Some of the students, like the German Baron Vonazi, were so irrefutably strange that Curt couldn’t help but be intrigued. He was incredibly camp, yet spoke passionately of his conservative beliefs. Even Miss Houston looked uncomfortable. Others, like Sergio’s partner, listlessly said their name and their country then fell into moody silence. Eventually, only two students remained: Tatiana and Owen.

“My name is Tatiana Slozhno, I am from St. Petersburg, and I am on the Olympic fencing team for my country,” Tatiana announced. Through their close skin contact, Curt felt Owen stir with excitement at the mention of the sport. Great, he was already losing Owen to the Hot Russian. “I am very much enjoying the company of Barb as she is very smart. I respect that.”

Barb beamed with pride at that, while Sergio and Dick scoffed. Of course they did. Dick could barely string a sentence together and Sergio hated Barb for winning the essay competition over Gabriella. Still, the fact that Tatiana genuinely liked Barb eased the knot in his stomach somewhat. Maybe the girls would hang out so much that Tatiana didn’t become a distraction for Owen?

Finally, it was Owen’s turn. “My name is Owen Carvour, and I am from Richmond in London. I’m excited to spend the next three months in the esteemed company of Curt Mega.” Curt couldn’t help but blush a little at that, even though it made Sergio snigger. He looked up at the slightly-taller Owen, who was staring intently at him with a twinkle in his eye. Oh shit, Owen was going to embarrass him. He was going to embarrass him hard. “Curt has been a wonderful host so far. He is a charming conversationalist even though his vocabulary could be extended beyond calling me ‘dude’. He speaks highly of this institution and of the wonderful Miss Houston here. He has provided me with burgers, the traditional food of his people, and has enlightened me to the world of competitive wrestling. I believe we shall be firm friends until the day I die.” 

That was it, Miss Houston looked even more confused than she did with Baron’s speech, and the whole class was giggling. Even Tatiana. Curt should have been humiliated, but all he felt was his heart swelling, not in an ‘I’m gonna die’ way, more like in an ‘I’m infatuated with this beautiful bastard already, god help me’ way.

“Okay…” Miss Houston began. “On that note, you dweebs need to get to class. Try not to kill your partners, we don’t need another lawsuit.” Without hesitation, the students started to make their escape. “Mega, a word.”

Curt shot Owen a pained look as he passed through the door flanked by Barb and Tatiana. He sheepishly stepped up to the window, where Miss Houston was already vaping.

“I saw that,” Miss Houston began sharply.

“Saw what?”

“Oh Mega,” Miss Houston sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t get your heart broken. I can’t deal with that mess.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He knew exactly what she meant. Fuck, was it that obvious?

“What I mean is,” she said, meeting his eye, “I’ve seen that look on hundreds of students before and it’s never ended well. Sure, he’s only here for three months so your little crush has a shelf-life. But you have to live with this boy. And you’re a senior. If you want to get into college you need to focus because your GPA is shit, Mega. So lock your feelings in a tiny little box until these brats go back home, because this crush will not end well for you.”

Curt was gaping. Actual mouth open. It was embarrassing. But for once, Miss Houston didn’t look like she was enjoying it.

“I know I enjoy to cut you bastards down sometimes, but not this time,” she said. “It’s tough being a gay kid in school. Especially a closeted gay kid. Don’t worry, there’s not a person here smart enough to figure you out except me. But this Owen kid might not like boys, and even if he does, he’s not staying. Just save it until college when everyone’s experimenting. You’ll be fine.”

~~~

Okay, Curt was wrong. Tatiana was wonderful.

It was a warm but breezy day, so the four of them had gathered on one of the outside benches for lunch. Mrs Mega had insisted on making him and Owen sandwiches, which she had cut into triangles and filled with every meat they had in the fridge. Thank fuck Owen _wasn’t_ a vegetarian. Barb had introduced Tatiana to the delights of the school cafeteria, and while her meatloaf was suspect, she had been delighted with the prospect of the famous Tater Tot.

Curt first began to love Tatiana when Dick Big Jr approached her and asked for the pleasure of her company at his father’s diner that weekend. Tatiana had hurled out a barrage of thinly veiled insults that Dick didn’t have the brain to catch, and he walked away exclaiming “what a woman!” to a furious-looking Baron.

“In my country, we would call him Мудак,” Tatiana said after he left. “It means, how you say, shithead?”

The second thing Curt loved about Tatiana was that she showed no interest in Owen at all. Well, she did, but a healthy, friendly interest. Not the way Curt stared at Owen, or the way Barb stared at Curt. Maybe he still had no chance, but hopefully he didn’t have the sight of them making-out in his near future. Of course, he could be wrong. Curt had a history of misjudging people. But no, he didn't need to lose himself in _those_ memories.

“Barb tells me you are best friends,” Tatiana said to Curt eventually. “This is nice.”

“Yes,” Barb replied excitedly, “Curt and I have been inseparable since freshman year.”

“That’s so cute,” Owen said, amused. “You must be so close.”

“I guessed,” Curt murmured guiltily. He knew he had to tell Barb eventually. He could be a dick and pretend he was into Tatiana to put her off the scent. Or he could tell her the truth…

No. Telling her risked Owen finding out, and he wasn’t quite ready to give up their instant bond, platonic as it may be, yet.

~~~

“Well, love, your tales of horror were greatly exaggerated,” Owen announced, sliding into the booth. They’d decided to go to Big’s Diner after all, the four of them, although Barb and Tatiana had slinked off to the bathroom together, with Dick Big Jr gawping at them from the kitchens. “If you thought this place was a nightmare, you would not last a minute in an all-boy’s British grammar school.”

“But wasn’t it boring?” Curt moaned. “This town is so dull.”

“Well, yes,” Owen agreed. “But sometimes boring is a good thing.” Curt understood why Owen was enjoying himself. This was the first time he’d probably ever been able to just go out with friends after school in his life. The first day without responsibilities or clubs or extra work. His Aunt Sybil sounded brutal. Maybe she and Miss Houston should be friends. At the thought of Miss Houston, Curt froze up again. Her warning had been replaying in his head all day.

“Curt, are you okay?”

Curt shook his head, but not to say no, more to bring him to his senses. Miss Houston was right. Lock the feelings away and just focus on having a new friend, making sure Owen enjoyed himself. He had to ignore how handsome Owen looked under the dim lighting of Big’s Diner. How the adorable crook of his jaw was more prominent when he smiled. How beautiful Curt’s name sounded in his accent. _Lock your feelings in a tiny little box._ He resolved not to complain for the rest of the evening.

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” Curt asked, looking down at the menu to avoid Owen’s eyes.

“If you want my opinion on whether or not to get onion rings, the answer is always yes.”

Curt chuckled a little. “Do you think I should tell Barb the truth? You know, that I don’t like her that way?” _And that I’m gay and have a huge crush on you._

Before Owen could answer, the girls emerged from the bathroom. They were laughing together and Curt had to concede that Tatiana looked radiant when she was happy. The stern Russian act was cool and, if he was straight, kind of sexy, but the joy on her face was infectious. Curt let himself fall into it, soon laughing and joking with this new, unlikely group of comrades as the tension in his body faded away.

~~~

They talked to Mrs Mega when they got home about the bedroom situation. Well, not exactly. Owen did not want to admit that the rabbit freaked him out and Curt did not blame him, so Curt tactfully reminded his mother that she needed her workroom to finish sewing the bridesmaid dresses for Janice’s daughter’s wedding, and Owen helpfully suggested that he didn’t mind sharing a room with Curt.

That was how Curt found himself gazing into Owen’s eyes in bed.

Okay, that was wishful thinking. He gazed into Owen’s eyes across the expanse of his bedroom where a makeshift bed had been set up for Owen just by his computer desk. But it was intimate enough for Curt to pretend.

“I’ve decided, I like it here,” Owen whispered.

“Give it time,” Curt said cynically.

“I’m serious,” Owen insisted, pulling himself up to rest on an elbow. “I had fun today. I haven’t had fun in a long time.”

God, that was sad. Even Curt, bored of his town and friendless as he was, had fun. He took pleasure from wrestling, or from those days where Barb put aside her crush to just goof off with him. He couldn’t imagine how lonely Owen must truly be.

“Okay, if we’re being serious,” Curt said courage coming from he didn’t know where, “I like you being here too.”

“Good,” Owen nodded. Curt could just about make out his crooked smile in the dim light. “Now, tell me about this school dance we’re supposed to be going to.”

Oh shit. The school dance. He’d completely forgot about the dance to welcome the exchange students.

_Owen in a suit. Owen dancing in a suit. Jesus fucking Christ._

“Oh, that,” Curt said in his best attempt to sound nonchalant. He suddenly found the corner of his blanket very interesting. “It’s nothing. We don’t have to go.”

“You’re not going to deny me the experience of an authentic, Hollywood, American school dance, are you, dear?”

_Try getting out of this one, Mega_. “I suppose we could go with Barb and Tatiana.” And then quieter, testing the waters. “Like a double date?”

“How about the four of us go as friends,” Owen responded.

Curt flipped onto his back. Friends. He could do that.


	4. Misery Loves Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this whole thing in the notes app on my phone and am posting it while waiting for a flight because I have nothing else to do. If there’s any formatting issues I’ll fix them when I’m back at a computer.

He didn’t see much of Owen the next day. First, Barb had dragged him along to the dance organisational committee, leaving Owen and Tatiana to fend for themselves in the unforgiving cafeteria of their high school. After an hour of listening to Gabriella bark out orders as Sergio looked on lovestruck, and Gabrielle’s own exchange partner Maria gave Sergio the same look, they’d settled on decorations (silver and blue), a venue (the school gym, how original) and a band (two juniors, Clark and Pierce, who had won that year’s Battle of the Bands), and Curt was free, practically charging away from Barb to wrestling practice.

It had been Curt’s idea for Owen to take up Mandarin with Miss Houston on Tuesday afternoons, as this was when Curt practiced and the last thing he needed in his situation was for Owen to have his eyes on him while he grappled with buff guys in spandex.

“Barb needs to learn a combat sport,” Tatiana suggested later, when the four of them had gathered at the bunker in the evening. She was demonstrating fencing stances to Owen using a stick, while Curt munched in chips and Barb was the only one working on her homework.

“Oh no,” Barb insisted, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You do what you do and I’ll do what I do.”

“Come on,” Tatiana urged. “You need to have some fun.”

Barb didn’t need more than a gentle coaxing, and rose to take the stick from Owen’s hand. As the girls fenced, or rather, Tatiana fenced while Barb flailed wildly with a stick, Owen sat beside Curt, their shoulders brushing, and reached over to grab a handful of chips from the bag in Curt’s lap.

“You’re quiet,” he mused.

“Just observing,” Curt said. “Not used to having people in my space. It’s nice.”

He felt the warmth of Owen beside him, could breathe in the scent of his aftershave. That crooked smile of his made his heart feel full and his hands tingle. He wanted to laugh, not because anything funny had happened, but because for the first time in a long time, he was truly happy.

~~~

The week passed in much the same fashion, the four of them hanging out together at school, then the bunker, before Owen and Curt went home, ate with Mrs Mega, and fell asleep watching each other from opposite sides of the room. One night, Curt slept first, soothed by Owen’s soft voice as he described the beauty of Lake Windermere that he’d visited that summer, but mostly, Owen dosed off first, and Curt spent what felt like hours watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, how his crooked jaw always made it look like he was smiling in his sleep, the way his hair fell over his face and how his eyelashes brushed his cheeks. If he was an artist, he’d sketch how beautiful Owen looked in these moments. If he was a total creep, he’d take a photo. Instead he just stared, burning the sight into his memory so that he could never forget the time he saw perfection.

Eventually, they reached Friday, the day of the dance, and Curt was wholly unsurprised that Owen had brought a suit with him. He was, however, surprised to notice that Owen looked better in it than he could have possibly imagined.

“You clean up well,” was all he could manage to say without his face flushing red or jumping Owen’s bones.

Curt’s own suit had been one of his father’s that Mrs Mega had altered. It was old fashioned, it even came with a bow tie that looked far too formal compared to Owen’s relaxed open collar. Curt moaned that he looked like a bad James Bond Halloween costume, but Owen had said he looked dashing and Curt smiled at that.

The girls came by in Barb’s Mini. Mrs Mega had insisted they take her Volkswagen because the ladies shouldn’t be driving their “dates” to Prom, but Curt talked her round with the fact that their brake light was out and also this was not Prom.

They planned to do everything together: travel, photos, dancing, even if Dick Big Jr. had tried to cut in between the four of them and sweep Tatiana away. He failed. The gym was decorated sparsely; Gabriella and the team’s extravagant suggestions lost with only four days to plan and a terrible budget, but the music was great and supervision was limited to Miss Houston, whose only concern was that no student talked to her, and Susan the receptionist. Kids could be dry humping in the bleachers and get away with it, if only they weren’t too scared of Miss Houston to even try.

Owen and Tatiana were both skilled dancers, probably from their karate and fencing training, while Curt with his brute strength and Barb with her inherent awkwardness looked insane bouncing around at their sides. But Curt was  happy , deliriously, unquestionably joyful, and any reservations or trying to keep his cool flowed away into the music. He knew people were watching him, whispering and pointing the same way they did when they talked about his dad, but he saw Owen’s head fall back in laughter as Curt moved and everything seemed worth it.

Until the last dance.  The slow dance .

At Clark’s call to “find a partner”, Barb’s eyes grew wide with hope. Immediately, Owen leapt in.

“Barb, my dear, may I have this dance?”

“Oh... I-“

“It would be in the spirit of things, to dance with an exchange student. Then Curt could dance with Tati!”

Barb cast a quick, longing look in Curt’s direction before nodding her agreement and taking Owen’s hand.

“Come,” Tatiana said, nudging Curt’s shoulder, “we should join them.”

Curt found himself in the centre of the dance floor, arms loosely on Tatiana’s slim waist as she rested her head against his shoulder. Around him, several couples danced. Sergio has found himself with Maria, Gabriella’s exchange partner, and the student body president glared from the bleachers as her ex-boyfriend couldn’t take his eyes off the petite Mexican girl. Not far from Gabriella, Dick Big watched them dance with a lascivious look in his eye, which made Curt reflexively pull Tatiana closer. Baron glared daggers at the room from behind the punch bowl, his scowl at odds with his flamboyant glittery jacket.

But Curt only had eyes for one person. Over Tatiana’s shoulder, he met Owen’s gaze. Barb had settled into the rhythm, smiling contentedly as she stepped side to side, eyes closed. But Owen’s eyes were on Curt, intense, deep eyes that made Curt feel like he was the only person in the world. Owen smiles at him, warm and genuine.

Fuck, this wasn’t a crush. This was _love_. Instant, Hollywood movie, first sight love. Curt never thought that existed, but in just a week Owen had become the centre of his entire world.

What did he do? How did he respond when his beautiful new best friend was practically eye-fucking him in front of the whole senior class? Did he do a thumbs up? Lame. Did he ignore him? Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Did he ditch Tatiana, grab Owen by the collar and kiss the breath out of him right there on the dance floor?

Mercifully, Clark and Pierce wished everyone a good night, and the lights came up, Miss Houston and Susan ushering out the students quicker than a fire drill. The moment had passed.

“So, what now?” Curt asked as they stepped into the parking lot. Barb and Tatiana’a arms were linked together, Owen’s arm sling over his shoulder. “Get a few beers, head back to the bunker?”

“Aren’t you coming toGabriella’s party?” Barb asked.

“What, you got invited to that?” He didn’t mean it to sound as critical as it did, just, he’d never seen Barb at a party.

“Of course,” Barb squealed. “Popular kids like me too.” Then, in a smaller voice, “and they wanted Tati to come.”

Curt nodded. “Okay, you girls have fun. Owen and I will...”

“We will join them, dear boy,” Owen finished. “Sergio invited us this morning.”

“It’s not Sergio’s party, Owen. They’re not dating anymore.”

“As if they would turn two dashing suitors like us away,” Owen laughed, ruffling Curt’s hair.

Barb giggles, drunk on the excitement of the evening. “I left you a change of clothes in the car.”

~~~

They stopped to change at the gas station and buy some beers. Curt had to do the honours as he was the only one with a fake ID. Barb’s young face and general disposition gave away her age too readily, and Owen and Tatiana both pointed out with groans that they were both able to drink legally in their own countries.

Tatiana looked stunning in skin-tight trousers and a simple black top and leather jacket, while Owen wore a Henley that showed off every inch of his deceptive muscle with just the hint of softness in his belly. In his faded Blink 182 t-shirt and jeans, Curt looked positively underdressed.

By the time they reached Gabriella’s, Dick Big Jr was already half-way to losing a game of beer pong with Baron. Crowds of seniors cheered him on as he gulped down another cup. One of them, Kevin, the wrestler from Curt’s “experimentation”, met his eye for the briefest of moments before pointedly turning away to kiss that girl from Curt's calculus class who worked in the casino. Lani? Funny, petite slender brunette girls weren't Kevin's type when Curt had him shirtless in his bedroom.

“Well this is as stereotypical as I expected,” Owen sniffed. “I love it.”

~~~

Truth was, Curt drank too much. His mom surely knew, noticed her depleted alcohol cabinet and probably could smell it on his breath. Yet, he got away with it. He never drank and drove; she rarely let him have the car anyway. And parties were a rarity of him. Most of his drinking was limited to his lonely bedroom or the isolated bunker. Maybe she worried he was depressed, but never that he wasn’t safe.

Maybe that was the reason he didn’t even feel buzzed several beers later while Barb was giggling and fawning over the curly haired weirdo who ran the school paper gossip column in the kitchen. He’d lost track of Owen and Tatiana at least an hour ago, when he’d gone to the bathroom and got lost because Gabriella’s house was  huge . He’s stumbled into five different bedrooms, interrupted five different make-out sessions, in his search for Owen. He’d caught Sergio kissing Maria, Gabriella’s house guest, and boy was that going to blow up soon. On the stairs, Baron was glassy-eyes against the bannister, cheeseburger in one hand and some sort of children’s toy in the other. So many of the people here were those he didn’t recognise or those he wished he didn’t. People slapped him on the back like they were old friends, sloshing liquid over his as they did. In the makeshift dance floor of Gabriella’s living room, girls nodded in his direction and whispered as they gyrated. There was nowhere Curt Mega wanted to be less right now.

Except maybe in the garden.

In the garden, people were hollering and whooping. It was dark, Curt couldn’t quite make it out, but there were about ten kids sat in a circle, jostling each other, cheering, laughing, a moving shadow in the middle of them. Curt stepped closer. One of the kids took out a small handheld camera. It flashed, and he saw.

Owen.

Tatiana.

Kissing.

He felt sick. His head was swimming. He must be drinker than he thought and hallucinating because no way was this actually happening. It was some cruel joke. It was a dream. Please, let it be anything else. He needed Barb. He needed her to drive him home as he was clearly having some kind of stroke. But wait, Barb was wasted.  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The music was too loud. His head was splitting. That’s it, it was just a migraine, making him imagine things. There was no way...

He ran. He tore through the house, barrelling into anyone who got in his way. Girls screamed and jocks swore at him as he passed. He didn’t care. The front door was in sight. He’d run all the way home if he had to. He just needed to be out of here.

Curt didn’t slow until he was out of the front door, and almost fell down the heavy stone steps leaving to Gabriella’s house, until someone caught him around the waist.

“Steady on, cowboy.”  Just what I need.

For all his beer pong earlier, Dick Big Jr looked relatively composed. He still looked like he was cosplaying as John Wayne, but a high quality cosplay. His eyes were sharp and focused, full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Curt didn’t even have the energy to lie. His whole body slumped to the steps, Dick supporting his weight as they both went down. He wanted to cry. Goddamnit, he wasn’t going to cry again. He’d known Owen a  week . How could that be worth tears? Why was he so  pathetic ?

“Okay there, Mega,” Dick said softly, his hand rubbing at Curt’s back, “we’re gonna get you calmed down and then I’ll get my dad to pick us up and take you home. Do we need to find the English one?”

“No!” Curt barked. There was venom in his voice, and hurt. He knew this would have happened. He knew it was too perfect for his randomly assigned foreign exchange partner to be gay. To be his soulmate.

And the tears were coming now, and goddamn if he didn’t care about Dick seeing them right now. He hadn’t felt this pain since his dad’s sentencing. It wasn’t just a crush. Owen and Tatiana and Barb, this was the first week in his life he hadn’t felt crushing loneliness, and now it was  gone.

“Can I tell you something?” Dick asked. He continued without waiting for Curt’s response. “I always admired you. I try so hard for people to like me, and you always seemed like you had it so together. That you didn’t need these losers because you were comfortable just being by yourself.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Curt sniffed. Dick’s hand was easing the tension in his shoulders, and he leaned into the touch.

“Let me finish,” Dick laughed. “I thought you were a true man’s man. Nothing phased you. I really wanted to be your friend. But now I see you here upset, and it makes me want to be your friend even more.” 

“Dick, I-“

“I know, I’m such a loser,” Dick continued, “even my exchange partner hates me. But I’m a nice person and I wish people would see that. I feel like you can relate.”

He could. How many times had he wished people thought of him as more than a crook’s son? How overjoyed had he been that Owen and Tatiana had seen past that immediately.

Owen and Tatiana. There was that vision in his mind again.

“I know you’ve made this new group of friends, but if you ever want to hang out...”

“They’re not my friends,” Curt spat.

Dick nodded calmly. “Okay partner, let’s go.”

~~~

They ended up at Big’s Diner. It was entirely abandoned apart from themselves, the fry cook, and a couple of truckers passing through the town. Curt had been silent on the walk over, and so, mercifully, had Dick.

Now they sat beside each other in the far-most corner of the diner, hidden from the fry cook’s view. Curt guessed Dick thought he’d want the privacy.

“So,” Dick said eventually, “care to tell me what’s got you so upset?”

Curt shook his head. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s cool, we can just eat.”

Dick was surprisingly easy company. Not in the same way that he instantly felt like he’d known Owen his entire life, but for the first time he saw Dick for what he truly was: just a boy who cared too much and was cared for too little. He hummed along softly to the country music playing from the tinny speakers as he helped himself to handfuls of fries. How had he always thought Dick Big was a loser, an idiot? He was exactly the kind of person Curt wished he could be, and probably the kind of person Tatiana was: sure of himself without being arrogant. Maybe if he’d been more like Dick, Owen would have actually liked him.

“Thanks for this,” Curt said quietly. He was shivering, even though it wasn’t especially cold. The knots had not left his stomach. He leaned instinctively into the comforting warmth of Dick’s side. Maybe he was drunker than he thought.

“Anything for a friend,” Dick smiled.

The smile was too broad, too sincere, too inviting. Dick’s eyes sparkled. It was the look Owen gave him in his dreams.

He leaned in, and Dick did not pull away.

“Curt,” Dick whispered, “think about this. Is this what you want?”

No, it wasn’t. But it was the next best thing.

“Yes,” he lied, and closed his eyes. If he tried really hard, he could imagine it was Owen’s lips now pressed to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEGBIG RIGHTS


	5. Paying in Naivety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was MEGBIG RIGHTS but now I have to hurt Dick Big and I'm so sorry.

_Curt where are you_

_were leaving do you want a ride we called a taxi_

_curt im worried_

_we cant find you anywhere_

_answer the phone_

_owens calling your mom if you dont answer_

_curt plz its barb call me ok_

_~~~_

_Barb just dropped me back off at your apartment and you’re not here_

_Your mother is sleeping and I don’t want to disturb her but I WILL wake her up._

_Where are you love?_

_Has something happened? Please call me._

_~~~_

_This is Tatiana. Stop being a dick and tell me you are safe._

_~~~_

_hey cowboy did I do something wrong_

_im sorry if i pushed u 2 far_

_i had a nice time with u hope we can talk soon_

_but if u dont want 2 I understand_

_~~~_

_Okay love I’ll cover for you with your mother if you just come home soon?_

_Please, tell me you’re okay. I will call the actual police._

_~~~_

His mouth tasted like a dog had pissed in it, which wasn’t out of the realms of possibility. He didn’t know what hurt worst, his throbbing headache or his back from a night on a thin blanket over cold stone.

Curt blinked himself awake at yet another buzz from his phone. The air was musty and the walls grimy in the dim light of his phone screen. He was in the bunker. He didn’t even remember getting here. His stomach rolled and he was overcome with the urge to vomit, but, if only to avoid cleaning it up himself, he swallowed it down. He squinted in the faint light to read his phone display, saw it was 4:30am and that Owen had sent him another text, but the battery ran out before he got a chance to read it.

Curt brought himself to a sitting position and dropped his head between his knees. He felt sick. He needed mouthwash, painkillers, and to sleep for a thousand years. He closed his eyes, and the images of the night before came flooding back. Dancing with Tatiana, Owen’s piercing gaze on him. Singing along to the radio on the way to Gabriella’s. The ungodly sight of a half-naked Sergio.

A dark garden. Laughing, whooping shadows.

Owen’s lips on Tatiana’s.

And then Dick Big, aka the biggest fuck up of his entire life.

Dick’s lips had been softer than he expected; he kissed tentatively and slowly. Curt had to tilt his head up ever so slightly to reach them, just like he would with Owen. Dick sighed into his kisses. He cupped Curt’s jaw with one hand and held his thigh with another. He didn’t push, but he welcomed Curt’s every action. Curt was desperate; needy; sad. He was practically climbing on top of Dick to feel his warmth. He deepened the kiss, knocking off his dumb cowboy hat, and Dick responded in kind. He was so close he had Dick pressed up against the wall of the diner, and still that wasn’t enough. His hand had reached for Dick’s shirt buttons. He’d popped open a couple and slipped his hand under the denim.

It was all wrong.

Dick Big was _jacked_. His body was too solid, too toned. Where was the softness of Owen’s torso that masked his core strength? Where was Owen’s long hair? His scent?

Oh god, what was he doing? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn’t breathe. He was too hot. His skin had bristled and goosebumps raised over his arms. Escape, escape. He’d pushed Dick back a little too roughly and bolted for the door.

He’d ran, not looking back and not caring what lay ahead. He crossed streets without even looking for cars. At one point he was hurtling himself forward at such a speed that he’d tripped over his own feet, slammed to the floor and scraped his forehead against the curb. That explained his throbbing headache. At the time he hadn’t felt it. He just kept running. He hadn’t realised he’d been heading to the bunker until he was inside it.

And now he had to go home. He only prayed Owen was asleep.

~~~

When he opened the front door to his apartment, he didn’t expect Owen to be standing right behind it. He expected even less to be enveloped by a tight bear hug.

He was so tired he let himself sink into it. Owen was still wearing the same clothes as last night, and the smell of spilled beer and sweat lingered in the fabric. Owen’s hands were twisted in Curt’s sodden t-shirt; his head was tucked into Curt’s neck. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it all night. He looked completely undone, and Curt was a disgusting trash human because his first thought was _I made him feel like this. I’m capable of making him feel like this._

When Owen finally released him, he was glassy eyed, but tears hadn’t yet fallen.

“I was so worried,” he whispered, “when we couldn’t find you at the party…”

“I’m sorry,” Curt mumbled. He looked down at his own feet, unable to look at Owen’s broken expression any longer. Shame washed over him.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“I fainted,” Curt lied. The excuse wasn’t too far off _I fell over and hit my head while having a panic attack about you making out with a beautiful girl and me trying to go to second base with Dick Big._ “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Owen hissed. “You were passed out god knows where for hours! You could have died! I’m calling an ambulance.”

No way was he letting that happen. No way was his own stupidity and his dumb broken heart going to hurt his mother like that.

“Owen, I’m okay. I just need to sleep.”

“You could have concussion!”

“I don’t,” Curt said. “If I feel worse, I’ll let you know.” Without waiting for Owen’s reply, he pushed passed him, clambered into bed, and waited for oblivion.

~~~

He spent most of Saturday sleeping. He woke up a couple of times to find Owen sat in his room, eyes intently on him. One time he was on the phone telling Barb he thought Curt was okay. The other time Owen was watching him from behind a Mandarin textbook he clearly wasn’t reading.

The third time he woke up the room was dark, and Owen was sleeping. He crept quietly out of the room, grabbed himself a snack, and curled up to sleep on the couch.

By Sunday, Mrs Mega had figured out that something was up. She knew he’d fainted but was satisfied he didn’t have a concussion, and ordered Curt to further bedrest while Owen came grocery shopping with her. Curt didn’t complain. The less time Owen was around, the less time he had to think about how he felt his whole world was ending.

He hadn’t charged his phone since he’d returned home. He knew Owen had told the girls he was safe and he absolutely wanted to pretend Dick Big didn’t exist right now. When Owen and his mom returned, Owen tried talking to him, but Curt complained of a migraine.

That night, Owen braved Oleg the taxidermied rabbit and slept in the spare room.

~~~

**From:[barblarvenor@aol.com](mailto:barblarvenor@aol.com)**

**To:** [ **curtmegazord@hotmail.com** ](mailto:curtmegazord@hotmail.com)

Hi Curt!

Owen told us you still weren’t feeling well and had taken the day off school. I feel so guilty that I drank at that party. If I’d stayed sober and drove you home, that horrible thing wouldn’t have happened to you. I hope you forgive me?

Tati and I are taking good care of Owen for you at school. The weirdest thing happened today. At lunch, Dick Big came and sat at our table. We thought he was making a move on Tati again and we were going to leave, but then he started asking for you. I didn’t know you two were friends! Anyway, he said he hopes you feel better soon.

I’ve sent you attachments of the assignments you missed today, including my notes to help you along. Let me know If you want me to come over and help you catch up!

Love Barb xxxxxxxxx

~~~

“Curtis, honey, are you feeling up to food?” Mrs Mega asked from his doorway. It was 6pm, and in all honesty he was _starving_ , but this pretending to be sick act was a wonderful avoidance tactic.

“Sure, but mom, can I eat in here?” Even Curt was impressed at how small his voice sounded. “I don’t want you or Owen to catch anything.”

“Okay honey,” Mrs Mega said. “That Owen is a sweet boy, Curtis. He certainly misses hanging out with you.”

Owen slept in the spare room again that night.

~~~

On Tuesday, he went back to school. Once again, he travelled in the car with Barb, Tatiana and Owen. At Barb’s insistence, he rode shotgun in case he needed to throw up, and he pointedly tried to avoid looking at Owen and Tatiana sat together on the back seat.

Tuesday was the best day to return, really. He spent his lunch break in Miss Houston’s classroom catching up, and for the first time in his high school life, he willingly went along. After school Owen would have his Mandarin lesson, and Curt had wrestling practice. If nothing else, at least he could let out some frustrations.

Of course, he didn’t expect to look up at the stands, while he was grappling with Kevin Derry, to see Dick Big Jr watching him. The distraction threw him off his game, and Kevin pinned him to the ground with ease.

“Okay,” Susan sighed. His school was so shitty that the receptionist had to double up as the wrestling coach. “Maybe it was too soon for you to practice again, Mega. Take a shower and head home.”

Of course Dick Big followed him into the locker room.

“Hi there,” he said with a nervous smile. “I heard you were taken ill.”

“I’m fine,” Curt grumbled.

“Listen, I think we need to talk.”

“No, Dick. We really, really don’t.”

“I understand,” Dick began, sitting on one of the benches, “if you’re not out. I may be a proud southern bisexual gentleman, but I remember being scared of those feelings too.”

Oh no, this conversation was _not_ happening right now.

“I like you, Curt,” Dick said earnestly. “And if you don’t want this to be public I’m happy to wait for you. I just think we’d be good together.” He started fiddling with the brim of his hat which was resting in his lap. “Of course, if you’re not into it…”

“I was drunk, okay!” Curt snapped, hurling his towel in Dick’s direction. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I would have tried to get my nut out with goddamn _anybody_. Now just get the _fuck_ out of here!”

There was actual fear in Dick’s eyes. He rose to his feet. “Okay, well I’ll take my leave.” At the door he paused, not turning back to face Curt’s wrath. “Whatever it is you’re into, I won’t tell anyone what happened. I’m not that person.”

~~~

Owen was waiting for him outside the locker room.

“Let’s go,” he said. His face was stern. It was terrifying.

They didn’t speak the whole walk, but Curt knew where they were heading. It was dusk when they reached the bunker. The faint light of the setting sun behind the trees stung his eyes. Inside, Owen switched on the lamps and began to pace, while Curt stood dumbly by the door. The scrunched up blankets still lay on the stone floor.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped lying to me,” Owen snapped.

“I don’t-“

“Save it. I know you weren’t sick. You wouldn’t be wrestling if you were that sick.” Owen tugged at his own hair in frustration. “Tell me what happened on Friday.”

“I slept here.”

“Are you kidding me?” He sounded furious. “Why did you do that? We were going out of our minds looking for you!”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Curt spat. “You seemed pretty preoccupied when I last saw you at the party.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”

“Don’t call me that!” Curt’s fists were clenched. He could feel his nails digging into the fleshy palm of his hand. The pain was grounding him. “It’s weird. Save it for Tati, okay?”

“Wait, what does Tati have to do with this?”

“Everything! I know you guys are seeing each other, okay? You don’t have to pretend!”

“…What are you talking about?”

Curt wanted to punch a wall, a tree, Owen’s perfect face. “Oh, don’t try to hide it. I saw you guys at the party. You were all over each other.”

“Tatiana and me? Curt, I think you’re mistaken.”

“I know what I saw, Owen. You were in the garden and…”

“Oh for god’s sake, Curt!” Owen cried, throwing his hands in the air. “We were playing Spin the Bottle! Ever heard of it?”

 _That makes sense_ , the rational part of his brain was saying. Too bad his mouth was governed by the irrational part. “Okay, even if you were, you were clearly enjoying it, and I’m not going to spend the next three months third-wheeling you guys. So go, be free to make out or fuck or whatever. Don’t feel obligated to spend time with me.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are,” Owen said. There was anger in his voice now, even as he kept the volume low. A quiet rage that was terrifying. “You need to stop talking.”

“How?” Curt was practically screaming. “How am I wrong?”

“I’m not going to entertain this any more.”

“No Owen, tell me how I’m so wrong! Tell me what your fucking bullshit excuse is!”

“Tatiana’s a lesbian, okay!” Owen blurted out. It was like all the air came rushing out of Curt’s body at once. He felt weak. “She’s a lesbian. She didn’t want anyone to know because of the whole ‘gay in Russia’ thing, but she told me because she _trusted_ me, while you and Barb were at that dance planning thing. And now I’ve outed her to you without her consent. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

When Owen stormed out, Curt didn’t follow.

~~~

Owen was in Curt’s room on the makeshift bed when Curt eventually got home, though he was pointedly ignoring him, scribbling in a notepad. Thankfully, his mom was at Janice’s. He’d spent another ten minutes at the bunker reeling, followed by another hour planning what he was going to say. All of which went out of the window now he was here.

“I’m sorry,” he said dumbly, lingering in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to push you into breaking Tati’s confidence.”

Owen didn’t look up. “But you did.” He said. There was that quiet rage, again. Curt couldn’t help but feel that if he ever _truly_ wronged Owen, he could be downright dangerous.

“Look, I said I was sorry, okay? I won’t say anything about Tati, I wouldn’t do that.”

“What I want to know,” Owen continued in that eerie calm voice, “is why it would offend you so much if it had been true.”

“I don’t know,” Curt said, and it wasn’t a lie. He didn’t know what had made him feel worse, the idea that Owen wasn’t gay, the fact that he was right to be wary of Tatiana at the start, or at least thought he was, his own shame at what he did with Dick. A combination of the three. But he couldn’t tell Owen any of that. Not now. “I guess I was worried you wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore.” Well, that wasn’t a lie, either. “I don’t want to lose one of my only friends.”

Owen looked up at that, his face softer, that crooked smile back. “Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you? I told you how much I was liking it here.”

Curt shrugged. “I figured since you only had three months, you’d want to spend all your time with her.”

Owen got up, crossed the room, and hugged Curt. It was only brief, but it was perfect. “Curt Mega, you are an idiot. Now I understand you were drunk, but if you ever again feel like I don’t want to spend time with you, you be honest and talk to me about it, okay love?”

“I promise,” Curt whispered.

~~~

Even though he’d spent three whole days sleeping, Curt was exhausted. So exhausted he almost dropped off as soon as his head hit the pillow. But then Owen’s voice came to him in the darkness.

“Curt, were you actually sick?”

Curt considered for a moment. It wasn’t a lie. He had still hit his head, still got a migraine and a hangover. “Yeah,” he said. “But maybe not as sick as I made out.”

“Okay. And there’s nothing else you need to get off your chest, while we’re sharing?”

_I got drunk and made out with Dick Big because I wanted to pretend he was you. I dream about you every night and all I want is for you to touch me. You could never want me because I’m such a fuck up. People are right about me, I’m a loser. My hormones are all over the place and it’s your fault._

_I’m falling in love with you and I don’t even know if you’re gay._

“No, that’s everything. Goodnight, Owen.”


	6. I'm Not Drowning Fast Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is up less than 24 hours after the last chapter because I have no impulse control. I'm undecided how adult this thing is going to get but there's some "moments" in this chapter.
> 
> Spoiler warning for a film that came out in 2000, I guess.

Waking up to Owen sharing his room again was both a blessing and a curse. In those first few moments, Curt smiled broadly at the faint sunlight falling on Owen’s peaceful face, and he was glad they kept forgetting to close the curtains at night. He’d listen for Owen’s soft, steady breaths, let himself pretend for a moment that the expanse between them wasn’t so large.

And then his stomach would twist in knots of guilt again and he’d pretend to sleep until Owen got up and went to the bathroom.

“Curt?” Owen asked a few days later, “why do you have so many MSN nudges from Dick Big?”

Curt had been innocently playing video games while Owen used the computer to email his Aunt Sybil. He hadn’t expected to have a goddamn heart attack. What the hell had Owen seen? What had Dick been messaging him? Why did he leave himself signed in all the time?

He tried to keep his voice level, fixing his gaze on the screen even though he’d already hit a game over. “What has he said?”

“Nothing. Just keeps nudging you.”

_Oh thank god_. Curt relaxed a little. Dick Big may be keen, but at least he exercised some restraint. “He’s probably trying to hit me up for Tati’s number.”

Owen laughed, “poor fellow. I feel bad for him.”

_You have no idea_ , Curt thought.

~~~

There was no way Owen could have been doing this on purpose. He couldn’t know the truth. Curt had been so careful.

_Except for crawling in a dude’s lap in a public diner_.

But Owen kept saying things that stole the breath from his body. At first it was simple, like noticing a rainbow sticker on one of the emo kids’ lockers as the four of them walked down the hall together. At first he assumed he was doing it for Tatiana’s benefit, trying to demonstrate to her that Curt and Barb would accept her sexuality. Still, Tatiana said nothing. She was unbreakable.

But then Owen kept slipping in those references while they were alone.

They were both sat at opposite ends of the dining room table, Curt staring blankly at some calculus while Owen thumbed through a novel they’d been set for English class, when out of nowhere, Owen asked, “have you heard of Section 28?”

Curt welcomed any excuse to ignore math homework, and dropped his pen. “No,” he said. “Is it a bar?”

Owen cracked up at that. “No, love, it’s a law from back home. Thatcher introduced it in the eighties to make it illegal to talk about homosexuality in British schools. It was only repealed a couple of years ago.”

Curt wanted to say, _why are you telling me this? Are you trying to tell me you know?_

“That’s fucked up,” he said instead.

“Indeed it is,” Owen nodded. “I was thinking, the project you have to do about your exchange partner’s cultural history? You could do Thatcher’s Britain.”

“Sure,” Curt agreed, trying not to feel too deflated. Of course this was just about school work. “If you think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea!” Curt couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in Owen’s voice. “In fact, I know just the perfect thing to get you started. Do you have a Blockbuster in this town?”

~~~

They didn’t have a Blockbuster, but there was a small DVD rental shop a few blocks away from the college campus. Owen didn’t tell him what they were looking for and Curt followed along nonchalantly, assuming it was some documentary he was trying to dig out, as if he’d be able to find that amongst all the b-movie horror flicks the store usually stocked.

“A-ha!” Owen exclaimed, holding the plastic case aloft in triumph.

Curt snatched it from his hand, having to raise up on his tiptoes to reach. He looked at the cover and pulled a face. “Billy Elliot? The ballet movie?”

“It’s not _just_ a ballet movie, my dear,” Owen said, taking it back from Curt’s grasp. “It is a searing portrait of the miner’s strike. Three things you need to know for a decent project on Thatcher: Section 28, miner’s strike, and the poll tax. Well, and stealing milk from children, but we can cover that in passing.”

“Wait, what?” Curt had received too much information in thirty seconds. What the hell was a poll tax? Milk thieves? Owen wanted to watch _ballet_ with him?

“All I’m saying is,” Owen continued, heading towards the cash desk, “it’s a good film and will teach you a lot. Don’t worry, your masculinity will remain in tact.”

~~~

Okay, Owen was right. Billy Elliot was a good movie, and was about far more than ballet. Curt had to insist on subtitles to understand the accents, but he recognised the ballet teacher as the woman who played Mrs Weasley, which was cool, and the soundtrack was great. They curled up together on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, shoulders touching. Every so often Owen would do a little shimmy to dance along which Curt found both hysterical and adorable.

He had to hide his face as Billy’s father went back to the mines so Owen couldn’t see he was holding back tears. It brought back too many uncomfortable memories. He was too young when it happened, but he remembered later watching news coverage of photographers crowding his old house as his dad was arrested when he saw the striking miners hurling abuse at the father. _He was only doing it to provide for his family_ , he thought. About both dads.

Curt sat forward as Billy’s friend Michael climbed atop a wall and cried “Oi! Dancing boy!” He’d been lifting popcorn to his mouth at the time but he’d frozen. All throughout the movie, he’d both related to and felt uncomfortable by the Michael character. He saw so much of himself in Michael, so much of that confusion and shame he felt every day, but at the same time Michael’s cross-dressing hurt him. If Curt came out, would everyone assume he wore dresses too?

Without hesitation, Billy ran back to his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Curt could see that Owen was watching him just as much as he was the screen. Curt recognised himself in Billy and Michael’s awkward goodbye, the way both boys shuffled on their feet, dug their hands in their pockets, struggled to make eye contact. It was the way he’d acted around both Owen and Dick Big recently.

Then Billy grabbed Michael by the shoulders, leaned forward, and gave his friend a kiss on the cheek. And this was Curt and Owen.

Curt saw it so clearly. He knew, from Owen’s reaction to his disappearance after the party, that he truly cared for Curt, just as Billy truly cared for his friend. But Billy was straight, and this kiss was just to give Michael closure and acceptance. Would this be what he got when Owen went back to England? A pitiful peck and a rushed goodbye?

They watched the final scene, as the adult Billy danced on stage, but Curt wasn’t really seeing the screen. When the credits began, he nodded. “That was cool.”

And he shut himself in the bathroom.

~~~

“Curt? You’ve been in there for a while.”

He didn’t answer. Curt sat with his back to the bathroom door, his knees tucked up against his chest, and he rocked gently. In the small slither of light under the door, he could see the shadow of where Owen had sat on the other side. How the hell did he explain _this_ reaction? He couldn’t use the sickness lie again.

“If you don’t answer me, I’ll break this door down,” Owen continued. “I’m a black belt. I could do it.”

He would. Curt could tell by the tone in his voice that he’d worried Owen enough, yet again. He had to confess something, but he settled on the least embarrassing secret. He twisted in his position, so his forehead was pressed up against the door.

“I was thinking about my dad,” he said quietly. Owen remained silent as he confessed the feelings that scene had brought up. How he remembered seeing the video his neighbours on his old street watching them from the doorway as his dad was dragged away. His mom in tears. Curt just a toddler in Mrs Mega’s arms, crying as the police car left. How he hadn’t been to visit his father since he started high school.

“Oh love,” Owen sighed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“Why would you? You couldn’t have known.”

“I just feel like I keep doing these things to hurt you,” Owen confessed. Curt could see the shadow under the door shifting. “Like my being here is bad for you." 

Curt clambered to his feet and yanked the door open, so hard Owen almost tumbled through it. “Don’t you dare say that. You are the best fucking thing that has happened to me in a long time.”

Owen raised himself to his knees. In any other circumstance, Curt would have come undone at the sight of him staring up at him like that. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said.

_No, Curt. That’s not what he means. Don’t give yourself false hope._

“I mean, I think you might already be the best friend I ever had.”

Best friends. Of course. That could be enough. Curt would make it enough. He dropped back down to his knees and gathered Owen up in a tight hug, raking his hands though Owen’s thick hair.

“We’re so tragic,” Curt laughed into Owen’s shoulder.

Owen pulled away, wiping at his eyes. My god, he’d made him _cry_. “I bet Dick and Baron aren’t this intense,” he laughed.

Curt let the mention of Dick go. He was another problem for another day.

~~~

Turned out, the problem of Dick Big couldn’t be ignored for very long.

As a rule, the exchange students were supposed to attend all the same classes as their partners, but both Owen and Baron were so far ahead of Curt and the rest of his class in Chemistry that it would have been considered a waste of time for either of them to attend, and they’d been taken out for private tuition.

Barb, his lab partner for four solid years, was now tied to Tatiana, leaving Curt with nobody to work with other than Dick Big.

Despite all of Dick’s attempts to get in touch, Curt had managed to avoid him since the locker room incident. Amid the chaos of students gathering equipment, Curt managed to say a perfunctory and vague apology, and they set to work. Curt had never focused so hard on school work in his life, if only to avoid the puppy dog eyes Dick was giving him, or the way Dick would purposely let his hand linger when passing over beakers, so that their fingers brushed.

Barb and Tatiana stayed behind after class, so that Barb could collect an extra-credit assignment in her quest to be valedictorian, and Owen wasn’t waiting outside the classroom door for him as he usually did. There was no escape. He tried to hustle out of there but Dick fell into step with him far too easily.

Curt turned into the quiet hallway leading to the drama studio, where nobody but theatre geeks would ever be found. It was deserted save for two sophomores devouring each other’s faces. He felt a strong hand wrap around his bicep, before he was dragged through a doorway into a dark room.

Dick flicked on the light switch and Curt saw that he was in the janitor’s closet, the space so small that Dick couldn’t help but be pressed up against him.

“What the fu-“

Dick placed a finger on his lips. “I’m not about to assault you, cowboy. We just need to talk.”

“We could have talked anywhere!” Curt hissed, trying desperately to stay still so he didn’t accidentally rub up against Dick. No matter his feelings or his regrets, Dick was still hot, and there was no telling how Curt’s body would react.

“No we couldn’t, because you kept avoiding me.” He removed his hand. “Now I need to know, once and for all, do you have any feelings for me.”

Curt sighed, and shook his head.

Surprisingly, Dick didn’t look hurt. “But you do like the fellas, right?”

“I swear to god, Dick, if you tell _anyone_ …”

“Relax,” Dick whispered. “I wouldn’t do that. Now, are you all about the stallions, or do you like the mares too?”

“Goddamnit, Dick. I’m gay, okay?”

“Fine,” Dick smiled. “And you don’t want people to know about this because…”

“Because it’s my fucking business,” Curt snapped. “You know, maybe you’d have friends if you weren’t so intrusive.”

Dick just laughed, “I know you’re just lashing out at me because you feel threatened, Mega. It won’t work. So, the night of the party, you were just using me?”

Curt lowered his head. “I’m… I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Just as long as I know where I stand,” Dick straightened himself up, prepared himself to leave. He paused with his hand on the door handle. “For future reference, next time Owen Carvour gets you so horny and you don’t have an outlet for it, I’m not opposed to no-strings-attached fooling around. Something to bear in mind.”

~~~

His mind was whirring. How did he get back here? Back in this place where he was seriously contemplating using Dick again because he was so pathetic. No, he wouldn’t do it. He’d settled back into a happy, comfortable place with Owen. Friends was all they would ever be and that was fine. That made it easier when Owen left. And fooling around with Dick Big? There was no way that could ever end well.

The bunker finally felt as welcoming and safe as it had before the dance. The four of them sat around in a circle on cushions Barb had brought over from her house, a mountain of snacks between them, and a small portable radio playing softly in the corner. One of the lamps was flickering and Curt made a mental note to change it.

Tatiana was sharing the story of when she was picked for the Olympic team. Owen hung on every word, fascinated, and Barb held her hands up to her lips in a praying motion, looking on like a proud mother. Curt felt a contented warmth in his stomach. This would be okay, he would be okay. He just had to cherish what he already had.

“Curt,” Tatiana asked. “Will you wrestle professionally?”

“What, like WWE?”

“No,” Tatiana said with that coy smile that meant she wanted to laugh but she was trying to hold it back. “Actual wrestling.”

“I don’t know,” Curt shrugged. “Mom’s hoping I’ll get a wrestling scholarship and get to a decent college, because god knows my grades won’t get me there. But I figure I’ll just go to community college here.”

“No,” Barb insisted. “You can’t sell yourself so short, Curt! You could do great things!”

“Somebody needs to be here for mom, Barb,” Curt said. “It’s not so simple.”

“Love,” Owen started. Curt’s eyes automatically flicked to Tatiana and Barb every time he used the pet name, but they didn’t react. “If this is what your mother wants for you, don’t you owe it to her to try?”

“I guess I’m scared of being rejected,” Curt said, _in more ways than one._

~~~

Curt Mega was dead. He was dead and in some sort of purgatory, or he was trapped in a kind of coma dream. Someone had drugged him and he was hallucinating.

There was no way it could be real that Owen Carvour was stood in front of him in just his boxers.

“Curt, are you listening to me?”

Curt blinked a few times. Nope, the mirage was still there.

“Curt, the shower won’t turn on. Do you know how to fix it?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Listen, don’t worry about it, I’ll just ask your mom.”

As soon as Owen left the room, Curt charged for his phone and dialled.

“Dick, it’s me. Meet me at the diner. Now.”

~~~

**sorry had 2 go. left my wallet at bunker n dont want it stolen. brb.**

As excuses go, it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t suspicious either. Curt ran the whole way to Big’s Diner. His skin was pulsing with electricity, like he was the mighty Zeus himself. The air burned in his lungs but he pushed on. If he stopped, he’d have to think, and if he thought, he’d realise what he was doing. And if he realised what he was doing, he’d hate himself forever.

Dick was waiting for him at the doorway. For once he wasn’t dressed up in his usual garb, but wore sweatpants and a Garth Brooks t-shirt. Curt had probably got him out of bed, and yet he still came. He was going to hell for this.

Curt wordlessly grabbed Dick’s arm and dragged him round the back of the diner, where all that was to be seen was dumpsters and a fire exit. The place stank, but he didn’t care. He pushed Dick up against the wall, his fists balled in his t-shirt, up on his tip-toes to meet Dick’s wide, dilated eyes.

“If we do this,” Curt hissed, his breath laboured, “we don’t _talk_ about it, okay? We’re just bros helping each other out, nothing more." 

Dick licked his lips. “Nothing more.”

“And we don’t go past second base. I’m not using you like that.”

“Okay, okay,” Dick gasped. His face was flushed red. He arched off the wall in an attempt to capture Curt’s lips, but Curt tilted his head away.

“One more thing,” he insisted, “can you call me ‘love’?”

Dick nodded, his hands running up Curt’s arms, to his chest. “Of course, love.”

Dick grabbed Curt by the collar and dragged him in for a searing, deep kiss. He moaned into Curt’s mouth as Curt pressed him harder against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, his hands twisting in the fabric of Dick’s t-shirt, his knee sliding between Dick’s thighs.

Through it all, his mind repeated the mantra _Owen. Owen, oh god, Owen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this was not the way this fic was supposed to go. When I conceived of it, Dick Big was supposed to be a background character. It will eventually be curtwen but megbig has sunk its claws into me and won't let go I'm sorry.


	7. Desperation Murmur of a Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited previous chapters to include a bit more context for Kevin Derry. The SAF Discord knows why. Just know he's retconned into being an important oc. (If you don't want to go back and read it, Kevin is the wrestler Curt "experimented" with prior to the fic.)
> 
> This chapter was really hard to write and I'm not very satisfied with it but it gets the characters where they need to be to progress so...

“Did you hear that?”

Dick whipped his head up from where it was buried in Curt’s neck. “Intruders?”

They held themselves impossibly still for a moment, the only sound in the room their faint panting. Outside the closet, Curt heard footsteps gradually grow more distant.

“Coast is clear,” he whispered, and Dick immediately went for the spot on Curt’s collarbone already damp with saliva.

“Wait,” Curt said. It felt good, but they had to be smart about this. “Can we cool it on the neck thing? How am I supposed to explain away a hickey?" 

Dick groaned, pulling himself away. “You’re right.”

“It’s okay,” Curt said. “Just kiss me, we don’t have much time.”

It had become a sort of routine over the week. Every lunch, Curt would excuse himself from Owen and the girls for the bathroom and head to the janitor’s closet by the drama department, where Dick would be waiting for him. After the second day, Curt didn’t need to ask. Dick was just there.

He kissed Dick deeply, he moaned and he writhed, but he didn’t actually touch Dick much. Dick’s body was too solid, too firm, and his hair was too short, for the illusion to continue. But Dick’s hands under his shirt, those he could pretend were Owen’s. Dick’s height was just right for Curt to have to stretch for his mouth. And fuck, Dick was pretty incredible at kissing.

Dick’s hands were wandering over Curt’s chest, coming to rest over his heart. “Oh love,” he murmured against Curt’s lips, and it pulled him out of the moment, made his stomach turn. Sure, Curt had been the one to ask Dick to use his pet name, but it sounded wrong in Dick’s voice, in his accent. Each time he heard it, it reminded Curt of the shameful, disgusting thing he was doing.

Curt pushed back. “I need to get going.”

Dick nodded, letting his hands slip away. There was a touch of cynicism in his gaze. “Sure you do. See you tomorrow.”

~~~

Curt and Owen spent the evenings together as usual, talking, hanging out, planning the Thatcher assignment, but as the week drew on, Curt noticed Owen becoming more and more distracted by his phone. Every five minutes or so, it would buzz, and Owen would immediately drop his sentence to respond.

On the third day, Curt finally questioned it.

“It’s just Aunt Sybil,” Owen said. “She worries if I don’t respond straight away.”

Funny, Aunt Sybil hadn’t messaged him much for the first three weeks of the exchange.

~~~

A week passed. Curt would have his little tryst every lunch, come back to the table hoping his hair wasn’t too messed up, his lips weren’t too kiss-swollen, and the rest of the time he and Dick completely ignored each other. At the weekend, they didn’t even contact each other. Owen spent increasing amounts of time texting, even as they spent their whole weekend together, His mom had picked up on the tension, volunteering to give Owen the spare room again. As the days wore on, Dick also talked less and less when they met, keen to just get down to business. By the time Tuesday rolled around, he only said hello and goodbye.

On Thursdays, the drama club had their musical rehearsals, so the janitor’s closet was out. They settled on meeting under the bleachers. Curt walked purposefully up to Dick and immediately grabbed at his rhinestone belt buckle to tug him closer, but Dick arched his head away.

“What is the situation with you and Carvour anyway?”

“We agreed we wouldn’t talk about it,” Curt growled. He’d spent the whole morning fantasising about what he’d do to Owen under these bleachers and he had far too much tension to let out.

“No, we agreed we wouldn’t talk about _us,_ ” Dick corrected him, removing Curt’s hands from his waist. “Owen isn’t us.”

“Dick, if you’re regretting this arrangement, just say so.”

“I just don’t get it,” Dick perched himself on the supports, swinging his legs. The fake spurs on his cowboy boots jangled. “We’ve been at this for over a week now and I thought you would have given in. Why can’t you just tell Owen how you feel?”

“Oh I don’t know. Overwhelming humiliation. Rejection. Probably a request to go home early.” He cast his eye out through the gap in the seats. The football field was empty, save for Baron on the opposite stand glaring into the middle distance, and Kevin Derry gulping down a carton of milk as he walked away from the running track. They were too far away to see or hear anything.

“Sure, if he doesn’t like you back. But what if he _does_ , Curt.”

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know? Have you asked him?”

Curt shook his head.

Dick hopped down, came up behind him, and rested a hand on Curt’s shoulder. Curt didn’t turn to face him. “Okay, consider if Owen feels the same way. You will have just wasted a month of the precious little time you have together, when you could have been all over him, because you’re a coward.”

Why the hell was Dick trying to talk his way out of this? Curt could tell by the way his hand hand travelled down to rest on Curt’s hip that Dick still wanted him. The master of mixed messages. Or was Dick just testing him, some hugely elaborate game of chicken until either Curt finally relented or Dick got bored. Didn’t Dick feel any shame? Didn’t he have any self-worth? Curt turned, staring Dick directly in the eye. “I may be a coward, but at least I don’t let myself be used like you do.”

Dick’s gaze was steely and cold, his blue eyes sharp. “That is not what’s happening here. I know what I signed up for. I just want smooches from anybody and you were willing.”

Curt wasn’t convinced. Dick had _told_ him he liked him. Besides, nobody was that horny and shameless. _Except me_ , his traitorous brain thought.

In that moment, he wanted to hurt Dick. If Dick felt bad, maybe Curt wouldn’t. “Here’s what you signed up for, _Richard_. You agreed to be my little plaything, hoping that I’d one day stop picturing Owen when you kissed me and start liking you. Well, guess what? Never gonna happen!”

Dick laughed, but behind it was pure spite. “Maybe a week ago, but I have learnt in a very short space of time who Curt Mega truly is. Curt Mega is a spineless loser who only thinks of himself. Never in my wildest nightmares did I figure that I would be associated with a man who was so self-centred and delusional. You need to learn to respect the people who care about you. I thought I could handle you bringing your baggage into what could have been a good friendship, or more, but you are not my friend! Nay, you are friend of no man! Not even Owen if you keep lying to him and using me to get off in his place. So I find myself in the unfortunate position of having to walk away and put myself first. I know my worth; I’ll get over you. But you will always be a tragic loser who is lying to himself. Curt Mega, I hope you burn in the fiery pits of Lucifer’s hell, goodbye!”

~~~

Fuck.

That did not go as expected. What now? Would Dick tell people? Would he tell _Owen_? Dick was out, he didn’t exactly have anything to hide. This was different to fooling around after wrestling practice with Kevin Derry. At least Kevin had a secret too.

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he shouted at himself as he paced the football field, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. He wanted to punch something, to cry, to lock himself in the bunker and live as a hermit for the rest of his days on a diet of whiskey and sleep. He let out a roar of frustration.

“…Curt?”

The voice was small and high pitched, and a little fearful. He’d been so blinkered he hadn’t noticed Barb approach until she’d reached the sidelines.

“When you didn’t come back to lunch we got worried,” Barb said meekly. “We split up to find you. Are you okay?”

“Does it _look_ like I’m okay, Barb?”

The hurt on Barb’s face was only temporary. She circled her tiny hand around Curt’s wrist, and pulled him to sit on the bleachers. She shivered. The air was getting cooler as winter progressed, and she only wore a thin graphic tee and skirt.

“You have been acting odd for a while,” Barb said softly. She’d left her hand on Curt’s knee, but placed delicately, softly, like Curt was made of china. “You’re not the Curt I know.”

“I’m just stressed with school,” Curt said. “Senior year is hard.”

“Curt, you’ve been acting strange since the party. Did something happen to you?”

“What are you implying, Barb?”

“You were unconscious, Curt,” Barb’s eyes were full of pity. It was the same look the child therapist gave him when trying to get him to talk about his dad back in middle school. “And gone for hours.”

He could _not_ handle this right now. “Don’t even finish that thought, Barb.” He didn't want to know what Barb was thinking. That he'd been jumped, maybe. Mugged? Even Barb wouldn't have thought it was something worse. Had she shared these concerns with Owen? Is that why he was almost crying when Curt came home? Was that the reason Owen could barely talk to him recently?

“Curt, I’m sorry, I just-“

But Curt was already leaving.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the bunker tonight?”

They were walking home together, Curt having refused Barb’s ride. Barb at the very least had not hinted at anything being wrong to Owen or Tatiana, even if her eyes were glassy as Curt walked away.

“I just thought the two of us could hang out tonight,” Curt said, “work on the Thatcher project.” _And if we spend the whole night shut up in my bedroom, we won’t run into Dick, and maybe we could get back to normal._

“Okay, sure,” Owen said, but his phone was already in his hand.

“Wow, Aunt Sybil is really missing you, huh?”

“What?” Owen said, barely looking up from the screen. “Oh. Yes. She is.”

Owen texted the whole way home.

~~~

He wasn’t hallucinating it. Owen was acting _weird_. One moment he was full of warm smiles, praising Curt for his ideas, leaning against his side on Curt’s bed to see his notebook pages, and the next he was darting to the other side of the room to answer his texts the minute his phone buzzed. His eyes looked sunken, like he was barely sleeping, although he always fell asleep first and woke up late.

Unless he was faking it.

At least he hadn’t taken Mrs Mega up on the suggestion to move back into the spare room. That was progress after the party incident. But somehow he felt even more distant than before. That Friday morning, he'd chosen to sit in the back of the Mini with Tatiana, leaving Curt in uncomfortable silence with Barb up front. They were both typing something on their phones and showing each other the screens.

 _It’s nothing_. He told himself. _He’s probably helping Tati work through some stuff._ They’d never brought up that Curt knew Tatiana’s secret, and he suspected Barb was out of the loop too. That was all that was going on. Owen was being a supportive friend.

It wasn’t that Curt’s weirdness had pushed him away.

That lunch, he went back to the janitor’s closet. He didn’t know why. Certainly not to make out with Dick Big again, but he was hoping Dick showed. One part of him wanted to scream at Dick some more, another to apologise. It didn’t matter, because Dick never showed up. All Curt had to show for his time was a meticulously tidy closet and an empty stomach.

~~~

_This is Tatiana. Can u meet me at the bunker? It is important._

**wots up?**

_I will tell u when u get here. It is about barb._

**ok let me grab owen frm ms houstons class n well b rite over**

_No. Do not bring owen. This is very personal._

~~~

“Barb? Barb, are you here?” Curt cried before he even reached the open hatch of the bunker. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, I was being-“

But there was no Barb in the bunker. Or Tatiana.

“Curt?” Owen asked, confused. “Tati didn’t say you were coming.”

“Wait…”

Curt turned to the door, just as it closed on them.

“What the fuck?” Curt yanked on the handle of the escape hatch, but it wouldn’t budge. He slammed his fist against the steel. “Hey!” he screamed. “Tati, are you out there?”

“Curt…”

“Open this door right the fuck now or I swear I’ll-“

“ _Curt!_ ”

“ _HELP! IS SOMEBODY THERE?!”_

_“CURT!”_

Curt whirled on his feet. In the flickering lamp light, he saw Owen was holding a sheet of paper.

“Curt, come and look at this.”

He stormed forward, and snatched the paper from Owen’s hands. He carried it over to one of the lamps and squinted to read the elegant script.

_Boys, you are both very foolish and I am tired of watching it. I have disabled the door so that it can only be opened from the outside. Do not question how I know to do this. You are locked in here until you talk through your issues and are honest with each other._

_You are stubborn and this may take some time, so I have provided snacks and beverages. I am listening via a hidden microphone so I will know when you have told each other the truth._

_Your mother thinks that we are having a study sleepover at Barb’s so you will not be missed._

_Tati._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEGBIG IS DEAD. To be honest, Dick deserved better.
> 
> I really struggled with this one because I led Curt and Owen further away from each other than I initially intended to. Hopefully it works.


	8. Let's Get These Teen Hearts Beating Faster

He spent the first twenty minutes slamming his fists against the door.

“Anyone would think you don’t want to be near me,” Owen deadpanned, munching on a Dorito from Tatiana’s supplies. He hadn’t even tried to call for help, just watched Curt silently.

“No it’s not that,” Curt said. _It’s that the prospect of being honest with you terrifies me._ “I just have mild claustrophobia.”

“Curt, this place was built for a nuclear apocalypse; I don’t think any harm will come to you here.”

“Unless Tati never lets us out.”

Owen crossed his ankles and leaned back against the steel. “I guess we have to do what she wants. What is this truth you have to tell me?”

“No way,” Curt still searched the door for something, anything, that would allow a release. Damn, how did Tatiana know about nuclear bunker door locks? “She said we _both_ have to be honest. Why should I go first?”

“Because I asked first.”

“Okay, you want a truth?” Curt snapped. Maybe he was a little claustrophobic because the air felt tight in his chest. “I’m scared you’ve decided you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, love,” Owen brought himself to his feet. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?"

“Because every time we’re alone together, you’re always texting!”

“Aunt Sybil worries,” Owen said quietly, looking slightly over Curt’s shoulder.

“I’m sure she does,” Curt narrowed his gaze, “but she’s not the one you’ve been texting.”

“How do you know?”

“Because _nobody_ texts their aunt that much! It’s insane!”

“Okay, you want to know who I’ve been texting?” Owen snapped, taking a step closer. “I want to know where you’ve been disappearing to every lunch.”

 _Fuck._ “That’s my business.”

“Okay,” Owen shrugged, then called out. “Tati, I hope you’ve provided us with plenty of snacks because we’re not leaving here for a while.”

~~~

They didn’t speak again for another half hour. Curt knew because his gaze kept flicking from Owen to his watch face. Owen had settled in the corner with a bag of fruity sweets, the blanket Curt had left here beneath him. Curt kept pacing the room, occasionally pushing the door to see if it had come loose.

“Will you sit down?” Owen groaned. “Just watching you is exhausting.”

“You might be happy to rot away in here, but I would like my bed.”

“Curt,” he said, quieter and calmer than before. “Where have you been disappearing to?”

Curt turned away from Owen, and rested his forehead against the wall. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared what you’ll think of me.”

“Curt.”

He could hear Owen shifting behind him, but Curt didn’t move. He scrunched his eyes closed. He knew what was coming. He’d confess what had happened with Dick and Owen would hate him. Call him disgusting. Might even hit him.

“Whatever is going on with you,” Owen continued, “it can’t be worse than what I’m picturing. I mean, my first week here we had the best time. I was so happy with you and the girls. For the first time I felt like I was a real teenager and not some trained seal for all Aunt Sybil’s ambitions.” Owen’s voice was closer now. If Curt turned now, Owen would probably be right in his face. “And then you disappeared after that party, and nothing’s been the same. And I don’t know if it’s my fault, or if something happened to you that you’re scared to tell me, but my mind keeps playing out all these different scenarios, and frankly, it terrifies me.”

Curt took a deep breath. _No more lies_ , he promised himself. The prospect of losing Owen over the truth couldn’t hurt more than leaving Owen to imagine the worst. “Something did happen at the party,” he began. He finally turned to face Owen. If he was going to confess, he was going to do it properly. “But it’s not what you’re imagining. Nobody _hurt_ me.”

Tension sagged from Owen’s shoulders, and the thought of what Owen could possibly have been imagining turned his stomach.

“I…hooked up with someone,” Curt said. With any luck, he still didn’t need to confess it was Dick Big. He was sure Owen would accept him being gay, but that didn’t make it any easier to admit. “And that’s what I’ve been doing at lunch. But it’s over now. We ended it.” _He ended it_.

“Oh, right,” was all Owen said, until he fell into silence once more.

~~~

Two hours trapped in the bunker, and they’d already polished off most of the snacks. Eating was the most effective way to avoid talking.

“Your turn,” Curt said around a mouthful of M&Ms. “Can you tell me who you’ve really been texting?”

“Truthfully?” Owen said. “It’s Tatiana.”

 _Tatiana? Why would he need to keep that a secret? Unless…_ “I thought you said you two weren’t a thing?”

“We’re not,” Owen insisted. “I just needed someone to talk to about… personal stuff.”

“And that person couldn’t be me?”

“No,” Owen said plainly. “It couldn’t.”

Another long stretch of silence, the only sound the faint dripping of a tap from the bunker’s tiny bathroom.

“Owen?”

“Yes?”

 _Rest in peace, Curt Mega_. “I’m gay.”

~~~

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted it. His lips had betrayed his brain in the worst possible way. He should try to smash the bunker door open with his damn head, it would probably be less painful than what was about to happen. He braced himself for Owen’s reaction.

There wasn’t one. Owen just sat there, silently. Watching him.

“Curt,” he eventually said, barely more than a whisper. “Who did you hook up with?”

“Dick Big,” he admitted. His face was burning.

“Oh,” Owen said. He was silent again. The seconds dragged on like eons. Glaciers could have formed in the time it took him to react again.

Curt needed to fill the silence with something. “It meant nothing,” he was talking too quickly now, desperate to justify himself. “He was just there and willing. Sure he’s pretty hot but I don’t have any feelings for him. God, I _used_ him, Owen. I used him because I am weak and disgusting.”

“You’re not disgusting,” Owen said sharply. “Don’t ever say that about yourself.”

“You don’t know how I treated him.”

“I don’t care.”

The words cut Curt like a knife. Owen didn’t care. That hurt more than if he had been angry. Curt’s self-destruction and shitty behaviour didn’t even register as a blip on Owen’s radar. Had he pushed Owen away that much?

“Okay,” Curt said. “If that’s how you feel.”

“You misinterpret me, dear,” Owen said. _Dear_. Curt knew he called everyone pet names, but the word fed the shrivelled, malnourished feeling in his heart he called hope. “It doesn’t matter what you did, I’ll never think you’re disgusting.”

There were tears in Curt’s eyes now, and he ducked his head so Owen didn’t see them. “I’m still sorry.”

Owen hummed a little, and routed around in his jeans pocket before retrieving his phone. Great, he was going back to texting Tatiana. Maybe they’d set this whole thing up together to get Curt to out himself. Maybe it was Tatiana’s revenge for Curt finding out about her. 

Owen got to his feet, walked slowly over to Curt, and handed him the device. In the corner of the screen Curt could see Owen had no reception.

“Here,” he said plainly. “Read from the first text on the screen now.”

~~~

**He’s home.**

_OMG is he ok?_

**IDK Tati. He said he fainted and hit his head.**

_Call an ambulance._

**He won’t let me. I’ll keep an eye on him.**

_Any change?_

**He’s been sleeping most of the day. I keep watching him. He seems physically fine.**

_U do not think he is emotionally?_

**Who knows what someone could have done to him when he was knocked out? I’ll never forgive myself.**

_It’s not ur fault Owen._

**Curt’s still in bed. He said he feels sick. I think he’s lying.**

_Probably. Just be there when he’s ready to talk._

**I’m scared Tati.**

**Hey, just me for a ride this morning. Curt’s off sick.**

_OK I’ll tell barb._

**Curt’s back in today. Still feeling bad, maybe he should ride up front?**

_Good. Did u think about what we discussed yesterday?_

**I can’t tell him tati. It’s not the right time.**

_Owen u and I don’t have a lot of time to waste._

**I know.**

**Things are going better. We’re working on the project.**

_Good! Then u can tell him._

**We’re not there yet, Tati.**

_Hurry up and get there._

**He won’t tell me where he’s disappearing to. What if he’s uncomfortable around me?**

_wdym?_

**Whenever we get close to each other, I mean physically close, he freezes up**

_And u think it’s because of whatever happened after the party._

**Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it too.**

_While I know it’s possible that he could have been assaulted, I don’t think it’s likely._

**How else do you explain it? Is it me? Is he repulsed by me? Does he know?**

_Why would he be repulsed by u?_

**I don’t think he’s homophobic. He reacted well to you. I accidentally told him about you btw.**

_I figured that out. Wouldn’t it be easier if u just talked?_

**You know I can’t do that.**

**Tati things are getting out of hand. I keep dreaming about him.**

_That’s nice._

**It’s not nice. I have to run to the bathroom before he sees.**

_Are u texting me about ur erection right now._

**SHUT UP.**

**I look at him when he doesn’t realise I’m doing it. When he doesn’t look so guarded. He’s amazing Tati.**

**Like he doesn’t know how beautiful he is. Or funny. Or smart.**

**And I keep imagining what it’d be like to just hold his hand and touch his hair.**

_TELL. HIM._

**I missed my chance. I’m pretty sure he’s seeing someone.**

_Even if he was, he’d dump them for u in a second if he had any sense._

_Owen, I need help. Please meet me at the bunker._

**Are you okay? Should I get Curt and Barb?**

_No. It’s a lesbian thing. Just between u and me._

**On my way.**

~~~

The whole time Curt read, Owen stood in front of him, hands in his pockets and shuffling slightly on his feet. There was the hint of a blush in his cheeks, and he kept his eyes fixed on Curt’s thumb as he scrolled through the messages.

“Owen, I-“

“I’m sorry to bombard you with this,” Owen cut in. “Just because I now know you’re gay, doesn’t mean you’ll be interested in me. Why would you be? I just thought you deserved the truth, when you’d been so honest with me.”

“Owen…” Curt took one tentative step closer.

“Please, if you’re angry, tell me,” Owen continued. “I can handle it. I just want us to get to a place where we can be friends again. You mean a lot to me.”

“Owen,” Curt couldn’t help it. He was smiling. My god, could this actually be happening? “You’re babbling.”

“I don’t know what else to do.” At that, Owen finally met his eyes. It was like Curt was seeing them for the first time. He was overwhelmed. His body was moving forwards before his mind could register what was happening.

“I have an idea,” Curt whispered, and leant in.

At the first touch of Owen’s lips on his, Curt Mega became undone. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Curt sunk, full force, against Owen’s tall frame, felt the scintillating heat pouring from Owen’s body into his own. Owen’s lips were soft and full, and on them Curt could taste the fruity candy they had eaten. Owen’s hair fell in his face and brushed lightly over Curt’s cheek. Owen swept it out of his face with his hand, then brought that hand up to cup Curt’s cheek, bringing him closer, deeper. Curt felt like he was drowning. He was dizzy, his heart was pounding in his chest, and yet, this felt _right_. Like Owen’s kiss was the last jigsaw piece to the puzzle that was Curt Mega. In Owen’s arms, Curt felt complete.

He darted out his tongue experimentally, and Owen parted his lips slightly to grant him access. This was so unlike any kiss Curt had ever experienced before. Dick Big had been all sloppy nips and desperation. Kevin Derry’s teeth had clattered awkwardly against his own. Curt and Owen seemed to be in this perfectly choreographed dance, where each reacted instinctively to the other. They were chemistry in every sense of the word.

Curt’s hands had found their way to the hem of Owen’s shirt, and he slid one up under the fabric to lay on Owen’s chest. There was the softness that had been so lacking with Dick, the very light scattering of hair. Owen wrapped his free arm around Curt’s waist and pulled him closer, so Curt had to raise himself to his toes to keep their lips connected, but Owen supported his weight. Slowly, Owen took steps backward and Curt followed, until they were pressed up against the cold steel wall of the bunker. Owen flipped them, so he had Curt against the wall, and lifted Curt off the ground. Weight centred between the wall and Owen, Curt hooked his legs over Owen’s hips, crossing them at the ankles, and moaned at the collision of their bodies. His hands raised to tangle deep within Owen’s long mane, and he gave the hair a little tug. Owen moaned too, then, deep and rumbling, and that noise had Curt’s head swimming. This was new, but it felt so familiar, like Curt had been searching for Owen his entire life and now he was here, he couldn’t remember a time without Owen’s touch.

The Curt Mega that existed before Owen Carvour kissed him was a whole other person, and one Curt no longer wanted to know.

Owen broke the kiss and Curt whimpered at the lack of contact. Still flush together, Owen rested his head against Curt’s and opened his eyes. At the proximity, Curt could barely focus, but he could see Owen’s warm smile.

“That was…” Owen panted.

“Yeah…”

“So I didn’t misinterpret?”

Curt laughed quietly. “Owen Carvour, if you don’t keep kissing me like that, I will actually kill you.”

“Oh love,” Owen sighed, “if I couldn’t keep kissing you, I’d want death.” And he captured Curt’s lips once again.

It was official, Tatiana was the greatest person alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The texts included here are just a selection of the most important ones because Owen and Tati were texting A LOT.


	9. Holding on My Heart Like a Hand Grenade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I name this the "kissing chapter". There's some plot, but it's mostly kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.
> 
> It's not NSFW but it's certainly suggestive.
> 
> Yeah. Enjoy.

The door had been open for ten minutes before either of them noticed they were free.

As they broke apart, breathing heavily, dizzy with lust, Curt heard a slow clap. He turned to the door, to see Tatiana in the dying light, applauding with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face that Curt had ever seen.

“You stupid boys,” she laughed. “Was that so difficult?”

“Shut up,” Owen muttered, before hiding his face in Curt’s neck.

Yes, this was a thing they did now.

“Tati,” Curt said, “I say this with all the love for you in the world. Can you fuck off please?”

“Yes, I am leaving!” she insisted. “But you should know I took several pictures of you, how you say, making out?” She waved her little digital camera in front of them. “Perhaps you can make one your desktop background.”

“Go away!” Owen groaned into Curt’s neck.

“Okay, I’m gone!”

~~~

Owen’s stubble against his cheek was a new sensation, one Curt couldn’t get enough of. The scratch of it centred him as Owen peppered him with kisses, his forehead, his cheek, that little spot under his jaw. Curt’s hands moved as if possessed, like if he wasn’t touching every inch of Owen at once the world was going to end. It was dark outside now, a thin sliver of moonlight shining in through the bunker door and illuminating Owen’s deep, hungry eyes. How many hours had they been here, kissing, touching, exploring? Why did it still not feel like enough?

“We should go,” Curt murmured just as Owen’s teeth had found the lobe of his ear. Jesus, that spot was definitely a to-be-continued. “It’s late.”

“Stopping is a bad idea, love.”

“We’re not stopping,” Curt said. He needed to extract himself from Owen now or they’d never be able to part again. “Just pausing. Until we get somewhere more comfortable. Plus, I kinda need to take a whizz.”

Owen chuckled, soft and affectionate. “You certainly know how to kill a mood.”

Curt took Owen’s hand, kissed him lightly on the knuckles. “I’ll make it up to you.”

~~~

As Curt’s bedroom door shut behind them, reality came flooding in. The bunker had felt like a dream, some incredible, all-consuming fantasy that couldn’t be true because nothing could ever feel that perfect. Curt’s bedroom was his _bedroom_. Their laundry was scattered on the floor with their textbooks, his mother’s vacuum cleaner was humming out in the hall. It was all so ordinary.

They stood, side by side, in front of the closed door, staring at the space in front of them.

“What do we do now?” Curt asked.

“Whatever we like, I guess,” Owen said.

“Well, I seem to remember you telling Tatiana that you wanted to hold my hand and touch my hair,” Curt teased, leaning in a little so their shoulders touched. “Tell me, Owen, have you always been a rom-com heroine or have I just brought out that side of you?”

“At least I’m not the dumb jock who doesn’t pick up when someone is blatantly flirting with them.”

“Oh please,” Curt laughed, coming to stand in front of Owen and resting a hand on his chest. “There was nothing blatant about it.”

“Really?” Owen said, raising an eyebrow. “So every time I found an excuse to touch you, every time I stared at you like I was starving and you were a giant pizza, that wasn’t obvious?”

“…did you just call me a pizza?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Owen’s hands were running up and down his arms now. “Or do you? You’re not the smartest chap.”

“Nope,” Curt said cheerily. “That won’t work. You told Tati you thought I was smart.”

“I’m beginning to regret letting you read the texts instead of just saying it,” Owen said. He ducked his head to place a soft, chaste kiss on Curt’s lips. One of his hands took Curt’s own. “Come with me,” he said quietly, and led them over to Curt’s bed.

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._ “Owen?” Curt said nervously. “Isn’t this moving a bit fast.” _What are you doing you idiot? Go with it!_

“It’s not what you think,” Owen said. He sat on Curt’s small single bed, pulling Curt down with him. Curt was dazed but pliant. He’d been on a bed with Kevin Derry before. Sure, they hadn’t gone but further than shirtless kissing, but it wasn’t like this was something new. But now it was _Owen_. Owen lay down on his side on top of the covers, one hand propping up his head. He reached the other out in Curt’s direction. “Come here.”

Nervously, Curt lay himself down, his head against the pillow so they faced each other but Owen slightly towered over him, just as he did when they stood. Curt lifted a hand, took Owen’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and Owen leaned down to kiss him again. Curt opened his mouth to kiss him back, and Owen’s free hand cradled his head, tangling in Curt’s hair. He sucked on Curt’s lower lip and Curt saw stars. His hand traced down Owen’s body before coming to rest on Owen’s hip. He shuffled closer, their legs entangling.

There was a knock on the door. They froze.

“Curtis, Owen, I’m doing a load of laundry,” Mrs Mega’s voice called out behind the wood. “I already washed your tighty-whiteys but…”

“Mom!” Curt all but roared. _Don’t come in, please don’t open this door._ “We’re trying to study!”

“Alright, alright!” Mrs Mega said. “Geez, you wash his underwear for eighteen years and still no thanks.”

They remained frozen in that spot, limbs entwined, bodies flush against each other, but eyes fixed on the door, until they heard the door at the opposite end of the hall close. Owen let out the breath he’d been holding, kissed Curt lightly on the top of his head, and began to extract himself.

Curt whimpered at the loss of touch.

“I’ll be back,” Owen said, padding over to Curt’s computer desk by Owen’s own bed. He picked up the sturdy, wooden chair Curt had stolen from their tiny dining table to use as a desk chair, and hooked it under the door handle.

“There,” Owen nodded, satisfied. “Much better.”

Curt held out his hand, which Owen took, and tugged sharply, disrupting Owen’s balance and sending him falling on top of Curt. They laughed at first, but then Curt saw Owen’s eyes. They were practically black with how wide Owen’s pupils were, and their focus switched back and forth from Curt’s eyes to his mouth. His lips were kiss-swollen, and the breath escaping him was ragged. Curt’s tongue darted out to lick his lips and Owen’s eyes followed its path, before he dove in to claim Curt once again. Curt flipped onto his back, and Owen shifted his weight.

Owen Carvour was straddling him. Owen Carvour’s weight was pinning him to the bed. Curt felt like his whole body was humming. He was flushed with warmth, his skin turning rosy. He took Owen’s face in both his hands and pulled him closer, so their chests pressed together. Curt felt like he needed Owen’s touch more than he needed blood in his veins. He arched his back, bucking his hips up. The friction made Owen groan, visceral and primal, and he grabbed Curt’s hands from his face and pressed them down into the pillow above Curt’s head. Curt’s fingers curled around Owen’s wrists, digging in. Curt could feel something pressed against his thigh. He knew what was happening.

“Owen,” Curt gasped between kisses. Owen made a little noise in his throat as he caught Curt’s lip between his teeth, his weight pressing Curt into the mattress.

This had to stop. It was the most incredible thing that Curt had ever felt, but that terrified him. It reminded him of the uncontrollable but impersonal lust he felt with Dick Big. Owen deserved more than that.

“Slow down,” Curt panted.

Owen released his lips, rested his forehead against Curt’s, and caught his breath. His hair tickled Curt’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “You’re right.”

He flipped onto his back at Curt’s side, the bed so small they could only just fit. He fumbled for Curt’s hand and laced their fingers together as they stared at the ceiling.

“I feel drunk,” Owen said.

“I just-“ Curt began, but he didn’t finish the thought. There was no way to put what he was feeling into words. It was too much.

“Do you know what sublime means?” Owen asked.

“It means good, right?” Curt had bent both their elbows so their joined hands were resting on his chest.

“It’s more than that,” Owen said, a smile in his voice. “Sublime is complete, total, all-encompassing beauty. When something is sublime, it leaves the person beholding it in awe. The sublime is a greatness beyond comprehension.”

Owen turned his head on the pillow. Curt looked back at him.

“That’s you, Curt,” he said. “You’re sublime.”

~~~

His alarm clock blinked 3:20am, but Curt still wasn’t tired. They hadn’t changed, hadn’t even moved off the bed. Owen lay on his back, his eyes peacefully closed, his breath soft and even. One of his arms hung limply around Curt, who curled up on Owen’s side, thigh hooked over Owen’s hip and head tucked in the crook of Owen’s neck. Curt’s fingers traced lightly up and down Owen’s side and he slowed his breathing to match Owen’s.

His mind replayed Owen’s words. _You’re sublime_. He’d called himself a lot of things in his life. _Dumb_ , when he got yet another D from Miss Houston. _Worthless_ , when his therapist asked him how he felt when the kids teased him about his dad in middle school. _Disgusting_ , when he thought about Dick Big.

But _sublime_? Owen liked to use fancy words but surely he’d got the meaning of this one wrong. _Decent_ , he could stretch to. But Curt wasn’t sublime. Owen was.

Owen smiled in his sleep. Curt didn’t know if that was a product of his crooked jaw or just the way Owen was. He was soft, gentle, caring.

But then Curt had seen that other side of him. The fury and fear in his face after the party. Owen Carvour could be dangerous, and if Curt ever wronged him, Owen could destroy him. The prospect filled Curt with terror. How could he ever be what Owen deserved? Surely it was only a matter of time before Curt let him down, disappointed him. Just like he did with everyone. _Same old Curt Mega._

Owen stirred a little, subconsciously bringing Curt closer.

What if Curt wasn’t a disappointment? What if Owen made his life right again? He could make Owen proud, could make himself worthy of Owen’s affection. This might just be what he needed.

~~~

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to singing. Owen’s voice was soft and low in Curt’s ear, and his hands carded through Curt’s hair. Curt lay there for a moment, awake but eyes still closed, and listened. Owen’s voice was just as beautiful as the rest of him; it was rich and warm and occasionally his accent broke through in the most endearing way. Curt stretched a little, turned his head on the pillow, and blinked his eyes open.

“Good morning,” Owen purred, looking sleepy and dishevelled. Yesterday’s clothes were crumpled, and Curt was sure both of them stank. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hi.”

“So,” Owen said, nuzzling his head a little into the pillow. “I was going to take you on a date.”

“You were?” Curt began to grin, but then his brow furrowed. “What’s with the past tense?”

“I decided I’d rather have you here all day,” Owen said.

“My mom…” Curt began.

“Taken care of,” Owen interrupted. “I woke up earlier and told her we had a big project to work on. She’s spending the day at Janice’s.”

Curt turned on his side, tucking his arm under his head. “You know, besides the obvious, the best thing about you being here is my mom leaving me alone.”

“That’s not nice.”

“No,” Curt said. “I love my mom, I do. But she’s clingy.”

“She’s probably lonely,” Owen said.

“I think it’s more she’s concerned that I’m lonely.”

“Are you?” Owen asked.

Curt shrugged. “I guess I was.”

~~~

They couldn’t ignore the rumbling in their stomachs much longer. They’d existed on a diet of chips, candy and each other since Tatiana first locked them in the bunker, but now they were in the kitchen, and Owen proved to be a pretty decent cook.

“I’m not a chef, love,” Owen insisted, “but Aunt Sybil insisted I knew how to cook for myself before I go to university.”

“I don’t care, these are the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten,” Curt said around a mouthful of food. Owen sat opposite him at the small dining room table, his long leg hooking with Curt’s own. “So, Aunt Sybil.”

“What about her?”

“You’ve not told me much about her,” Curt said. “Or any of your life back home.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Owen said, and took a sip of his orange juice.

“No way,” Curt insisted. “You know so much about me and my life. If we’re doing this, I want to get to know you.”

Owen sighed. “Aunt Sybil is…tough. She’s my great aunt, really, and she has all these old-fashioned notions of what a man should be.”

“Like straight?”

“Like she wants me to have status,” Owen continued. “My mother, Aunt Sybil’s niece, she came from a very well-off family. Good schooling, wealthy, friends in high places. One of my uncles was even in the House of Lords when he lived.”

Curt spluttered. “So you’re, like, _royalty?_ ”

“No, dear,” Owen laughed. “Some of my family rubbed shoulders with minor royals, but never me. Anyway, my mother met my father and that changed everything. Dad was what we call a First Generation student. He was the first person in his family to go to university. All of his family were labourers and blue collar workers. But Dad was smart. He wanted to build himself up, do something more. He worked so hard, and eventually he got into Cambridge with my mum.”

“Let me guess,” Curt said, “your mom’s family didn’t like him.”

“Oh, they liked him as a person plenty,” Owen said. “Dad was very charming. But as a match for my mother, they disapproved. But mum didn’t care. She was very… against her privilege. I mean she was grateful for all the opportunities she’d been given in life, but she didn’t want that to blind her or her children to the real world. Do you know the song Common People by Pulp?”

Curt shook his head.

“Well, she wasn’t like that. She didn’t go after my dad because she thought it was _interesting_ being poor,” he made air quotes around the word interesting. “She loved him, and part of that was because he wasn’t so, well…selfish. So they raised me in a pretty humble house, sent me to a normal state school. It wasn’t the experience my friends grew up with because they never actually had to worry about money, but they wanted me to be grounded.”

Curt looked confused. “I thought you went to some all-boys private school?”

“I do,” Owen said. “Now, anyway. Mum and dad died. Car accident, we don’t need to talk about it. And I was sent to my Aunt Sybil. She never had any children, and everything my parents stood for, she was against. Aunt Sybil is a glory chaser. She says she makes these decisions about my life for my betterment and my happiness, but I know it’s because she wants our family to maintain their status, especially the men. So now I school with sons of lords and earls, spend my every spare moment boosting my portfolio. I’m well on my way to attending the best university, a lucrative career as a barrister and eventually a ministerial position in the Conservative government. I don’t even support the Tories! You’ve heard how much I insult Thatcher.”

Curt was silent for a moment. “I thought my mom was pushy for making me take out the trash,” he joked, and Owen chuckled a little. “You’re eighteen though, right?” Curt said. “Can’t you make your own decisions now?”

Owen shook his head. “Aunt Sybil has control of my inheritance until I am 21,” he said. “If I want money to survive, I need to do as she says, at least until I graduate university.”

“Stay here!” Curt proclaimed, only half-joking, gesturing grandly with his fork. “I will get a job and provide for you. You will keep my home and raise my children, and you will paint in our studio apartment while I scrub tables at the diner to fund your artistic dreams.”

Owen got up from his seat, walked to stand behind Curt, and wrapped his arms around Curt’s shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his hair. “One of the things I’m not good at,” he said, “is painting.” He gathered their plates and took them to the sink.

~~~

A little later, after they’d both showered and dressed (Curt had given Owen a suggestive eyebrow wiggle when he returned in a towel, but he was trying to control himself), Curt lay on the sofa with his head in Owen’s lap. He’d quickly discovered that Owen’s fingers in his hair was one of the best sensations he’d ever felt. They stared at the television without really watching it. It was an episode of Charmed, which neither of them had seen, and they spent the first fifteen minutes devising their own backstories for the characters before they fell into comfortable silence.

“How long have you liked me?” Curt asked.

“Hmm?”

Curt began tracing circles on Owen’s knee with his finger. “When did you start having a crush on me?”

Owen shrugged. Curt sat up. “Oh come on,” he whined. “Fine, I’ll go first. I literally wanted to pounce on you the moment we met in that airport. There, your answer can’t be as embarrassing as that.”

“Is that so?” There was a challenge in Owen’s voice. “I found your MySpace profile and was drooling over your pictures before I even got on the plane.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Curt gasped, pushing Owen away so his back fell against the arm of the sofa. “All this time and you didn’t say anything? We wasted a whole month!”

Owen held up his hands. “You didn’t say anything either, my dear.”

“And does anyone other than me and Tati know you’re… wait, are you gay?”

Owen dipped his head, looking at Curt through lidded eyes. “I think we did some pretty gay stuff last night, Curt.”

Curt got onto his knees on the sofa. He linked the fingers of both hands with Owen’s and leaned forward, using Owen’s arms to support his weight. “Yeah, but are you bi, or gay, or what?” he asked, and moved in for another kiss.

“So, so gay,” Owen mumbled against his lips.

~~~

Curt’s phone rang. They were sat on his bed, facing each other, Owen holding a textbook with one leg tucked under him and the other stretched out. Curt sat cross-legged, Owen’s foot in his hands as he massaged it. Owen had been quizzing him on facts about the miner’s strike, because as fun as kissing was, Curt still had a presentation to deliver next week, and he was determined to ace this one, for Owen if nothing else. He left Owen’s foot resting in his lap as he looked at his phone screen, then promptly threw it to one side.

“Dick Big?” Owen asked, looking smug.

“Shut up,” Curt said. “It’s Barb.”

“Well, answer it.”

“I’ll call her later,” Curt said. “Kinda want to pretend nobody exists but us today.”

“Are you going to tell her about us?”

Curt paused. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind as he lay watching Owen sleeping. What it would be like to walk down the school halls, Owen’s hand clasped in his. How it would feel to introduce Owen as ‘his boyfriend’, if that was what was going to happen between them. What it’d be like to be out. Would he be happier? Would people still call him names? Would he even care with Owen by his side?

But the people in those thoughts were abstract constructs, bland, faceless students who he’d never see again after graduation. Barb was his best friend. Barb loved him, hell she was _in love_ with him. Telling her he was gay and that he was with Owen now would break her heart twice over.

“I have to,” he said.

“I’m not pushing you to come out, Curt,” Owen said. “I’m not here for very long, and if you’re not ready it’s not fair of me to-“

“I want to be open with you,” Curt began massaging Owen’s foot again. “But not yet? I want to enjoy what we have to ourselves first. And I need to plan what to say to Barb.”

“Understandable,” Owen nodded. “Let’s just make sure Tati doesn’t let her borrow her camera.”

~~~

That to-be-continued spot? Where Owen’s teeth found Curt’s earlobe? Owen was ready to go.

Curt was trying to brush his teeth, Owen stood behind him, hands on Curt’s waist, nibbling at his ear. Curt watched him in the mirror, and Owen caught him staring. He met Curt’s eyes in the reflection for a deliberate second, smiled wickedly, and darted his tongue out to lick the lobe. Curt immediately spat out the toothpaste, whirled around, and wrapped his arms around Owen’s neck, dragging him in for a kiss.

“Minty,” Owen said as their lips broke apart.

Curt shushed him, though he was struggling to keep his own overwhelming glee at bay. His mom’s bedroom was right next to the bathroom, and the walls of their apartment weren’t exactly thick. In the darkness of the late night, Curt led Owen back to his room, their steps muted by bare feet on thick carpet. Automatically, Owen secured the door with the chair again. He sat on the bed, and Curt sat in his lap, facing him, his knees either side of Owen’s hips. Owen’s hands ran up and down his back.

“What did you do with Dick?” Owen whispered.

Curt’s face fell. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

“You were picturing me when you were with him, right?” Owen pressed on.

“Owen,” Curt’s voice was small. “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

But then Curt saw Owen’s eyes. Wide, dark, sparkling. They were the same eyes Curt saw when Owen had him pinned to the bed. Owen’s breath was shallow.

“Is…Is the idea of me and Dick…” Curt said, incredulously, “ _turning you on_?" 

“I just want to know,” Owen said, placing a quick kiss under Curt’s jaw, “what we would have done. If it had been me.”

Curt grinned wickedly. “Why don’t I show you?”


	10. I'll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I kinda rushed this chapter because I was supposed to be having surgery tomorrow and I wanted to get it out before then. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, and my surgery has now been postponed, but I kinda just want to move on to the next bit now. Sorry it's so dialogue-heavy, but I hope it's not too bad.
> 
> Also, art for this fic now exists! https://sergiospastries.tumblr.com/post/186649902346/art-for-the-curtwen-high-school-au-fic-dear
> 
> Alphonse is the name I have given The Informant. The Deadliest Man Alive and Owen are separate characters here.
> 
> Trigger warnings for mild homophobia in this chapter.

“Yes, Auntie, I promise.”

It was certainly an experience listening to Owen blatantly lie to Aunt Sybil while curled into his side. Yes, Owen was working very hard. Yes, he’d found a karate club that he had been attending every Saturday, and no he hadn’t been slacking off on piano practice. In fact, his exchange partner’s home had a baby grand that he played on every day. Curt had to supress a laugh at that one; Mrs Mega’s musical ability probably didn’t even stretch to a kazoo.

“Indeed, Auntie. The provision is not as extensive as at St. Joseph’s, but for a state school the extra-curricular activities are numerous. Plus, the American schooling system is so uniquely different that it will certainly make me a more versatile student.”

Curt started to tickle Owen’s ribs. It was incredible how unbreakable he was.

“No, Auntie, I have not had any responses from my applications yet. I shall inform you when I do.”

“I should take a shot every time you say Auntie,” Curt whispered in his ear. “I’d be wasted.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go. We have to get to school early for Curt’s student government meeting. Yes, Auntie. He is the treasurer. He’s very responsible.”

Curt was sucking at his collarbone now. Owen’s voice raised its pitch as he almost squeaked a goodbye and hung up the phone. He looked at Curt with hungry eyes.

“Curt Mega, you are a bastard man.”

~~~

Tatiana’s smirk appeared to have been tattooed on her face. As Barb drove, babbling cluelessly about Curt’s upcoming wrestling match that Friday, Tatiana stared knowingly back at Curt in the side-view mirror. In the backseat, Owen was pouring one final time over Curt’s presentation script for Miss Houston’s class, a pen in one hand, and the pinkie of his other hand surreptitiously hooked around Curt’s pinkie between their thighs.

“Curt I’m worried,” Barb was saying. “They call him the _Deadliest Man Alive_!”

That distracted Tatiana for a moment, and she barked out a laugh. “Oh, please! Who does this boy think he is fooling?”

“I’ll be fine, Barb,” Curt said. “He sounds like a total DX fanboy.”

“I do not know what this means,” Tatiana said.

“D-Generation X? Shawn Michaels? Triple H? No?” Curt sighed. “I need friends who like wrestling. Point is, any kid who needs to give himself a nickname like _Deadliest Man Alive_ is no threat. What _might_ kill me is Miss Houston after today.”

“Now, dear,” Owen butted in. The way he said _dear_ sounded different, or maybe Curt was only now picking up on the affection he always imbued into that word. It was warm, playful, loving. “If this presentation doesn’t get you at least an A minus, I will consider it a failure to myself.”

“Way to pile on the pressure, Owen.”

“I never fail, love,” Owen said, smiling. He winked at Curt, tightened the grip on his pinkie. Curt hoped Barb's attention was on the road, even as the wide smile grew on his face. “You’ll do great.”

~~~

“In conclusion: watches… chocolate… cheese… Ladies and gentlemen, we give you the Swiss.”

Confused applause filled the classroom as Sergio gathered up his papers. Beside him, his partner Feurgin stared blankly into space.

“That’s great, Sergio. Except your partner is from Prussian Sloviskia, you fuckin’ dumb dumb,” Miss Houston snapped, a face like thunder and tapping her heel impatiently on the floor. She was going through another one of her attempts to give up smoking, that would last maybe two hours if previous experience was taken into consideration.

Curt’s knee was bouncing under his desk with nerves, and he saw the flinch of Owen’s hand as he automatically reached for it, before pausing and curling up his fist. Curt turned his attention back to his presentation script again. What if the pages weren’t in the right order? What if he said something wrong? Who the hell was Michael Heseltine again?

“Alright! Next up to present we have… hoo boy, this should be good. Curt Mega and Owen Carvour presenting on British history. Let me guess, you’re talking about Churchill, right? Everybody always picks goddamn Churchill.”

Curt stood up and made his way to the front of the class, Sergio slapping him on the back as he passed. Owen followed, and the pair stood awkwardly waiting for Feurgin to vacate their space. The class chuckled as Feurgin finally trotted back to his table, which did little to settle Curt’s nerves.

Curt took in the class before him. Most of them were still watching Feurgin, who had started picking lint from Sergio’s collar, but a few were giving him their vague attention. That should have made this easier, but it didn’t. He wanted them to listen. He wanted Owen to be proud. He took a deep breath, and gave Owen a little thumbs up, which Owen returned with a nod.

He cleared his throat, and raised his voice over the low chatter of the class. “My presentation today examines the social and economic impact of government policy in Thatcher’s Britain between 1979 and 1990.”

“Hmm… recent history but unexpected and interesting. Continue.”

Miss Houston was _smiling_. And so was Owen. This was new. “Okay, so… Nicknamed the Iron Lady, Margaret Thatcher was Britain’s first female Prime Minister, leading the Conservative government. She rose to power following the Winter of Discontent, a period between-“

“Oh my god!” The small gasp came from Gabriella, who had whipped out her phone. She leaned over to show the screen to one of her girl friends, who held a hand over her mouth in shock.

“Erm… a period between late 1978 and early 1979 in which-“

“Dude, have you seen this?” That came from one of Sergio’s friends. The buzzing of vibrating phones started to fill the classroom so that Curt felt like he was stood in the middle of a beehive, and students itched in their seats to check their screens, completely disregarding the death glare Miss Houston was casting around the room. Owen nudged Curt’s side, and he raised his voice again.

“ _In which_ public sector trade unionists led widespread strikes demanding larger pay rises-“

“I don’t believe it!” Sergio did not even try to be discreet, shoving his phone in Maria’s face. The only person not scrambling to look at his screen was Feurgin, who was intently watching a fly on his desk.

“-contributing directly to the downfall of the Labour government and the premiership of Prime Minister James Callaghan. Unsurprisingly, Thatcher’s government regularly opposed trade unions-“

“There’s _pictures_!” Gabriella squealed.

Miss Houston stormed in front of Curt and Owen, picked up a board eraser, and hurled it at the wall. The students froze for a moment. “Okay you little bastards! A rare thing is happening where Mega is actually saying intelligent things! Pay attention!”

Curt was panicking now. He’d lost his place. Miss Houston was in a rage. “Where was I? Erm..Th-Thatcher’s government…wait, I already said that.”

“Oh my, I got it too!” Even Feurgin was looking at his phone now.

“Alright, everybody, shut up!” Miss Houston roared. “Now will _somebody_ hand me their phone and show me what has got you assholes so excited?”

The class settled a little, trying surreptitiously to sneak their phones back into their pockets, although the giggling and whispers continued. Miss Houston stood before Sergio’s desk, managing to tower menacingly over him despite her height and small frame.

“Sergio Santos, you give me that cell phone this moment or the whole class gets detention.” Sergio gingerly placed his phone on the desk and slid it forward. Miss Houston snapped it up, and her face fell. “Oh. Oh my. Okay, I need to see the Principal about this. None of you bastards move.” The door had barely closed behind Miss Houston before the classroom was alive once again with gossip. Curt and Owen glanced at each other. Neither of their phones had buzzed. How was _Feurgin_ in on the gossip and not them?

“Can you believe it?” Gabriella gasped.

“No, I mean… he’s an _athlete_!”

 _That_ caught Curt’s attention.

“No wonder he wrestles! Probably loves getting grappled by beefy dudes.”

_Wait…_

“Do you think he’s ever popped a boner on the mat?”

_No…_

Sergio was howling with laughter. “Yeah, man. Better watch our backs in the locker room. Am I right, Mega?”

Sergio looked him dead in the eye. _He knows. They all know_. He was going to be sick. He was going to vomit right there in front of the class, with Sergio fucking Santos laughing in his face. He needed air. He needed escape. He needed-

_Has Barb seen it?_

“Curt…” Owen’s hand had just grazed Curt’s shoulder as he shrugged it away.

“…I have to go.” He muttered, eyes on his feet. He ran.

“ _Curt_!”

~~~

“Curt, wait!” Owen’s voice echoed down the hall, but all Curt could hear was a cacophony of whispers and laughing. He could barely see where he was going as the hall filled with students spilling out of their classes, eyes glued to their phones.

“Curt, bloody hell! Stop!” Owen had managed to catch up with him, grabbing his wrist. Curt wrenched his hand away. He doubled over, chest thumping, hands resting on his knees. He was going to heave. No, he was going to faint. His vision was blurred; his head swimming.

“I need… _oh god_!”

“Okay, Curt. Breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Owen patted his back lightly. Curt recoiled at the touch. "It's just a panic attack."

“No, no, no…” He pulled himself upright, casting panicked glances around the hall. Owen couldn’t be touching him right now. He just _couldn’t_. “I need to go.”

“Where are you going?” He was so calm. Why was he so calm? Didn’t he realise what was happening?

“I need to find Barb!” Curt yelled. A few students jumped, before returning to their phone screens. Were they pointing at him? He felt like they were pointing at him.

“Curt, you need to _stop_!” Owen grabbed him by both shoulders. Curt tried to pull away but he couldn’t. Owen really was deceptively strong.

“Owen, you don’t get it! She can’t find-“ His vision began to cloud with tears, and he blinked them away. He couldn’t let them see him cry too. His world was ending. Did Barb already know? She would hate him. Everyone would hate him. And then Owen would hate him, and he would have screwed everything up. Again. He lowered his voice. “She can’t find out about us this way. I have to tell her first.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have no fucking choice, do I?” All he wanted was to wrap his arms around Owen’s middle, to bury his face in his chest and hide there for the rest of his life. But they couldn’t. All he could do was leave his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Curt!”

Her voice was unmistakable, the high pitch soaring above the crowd and the blood rushing in Curt’s ears. Curt and Owen both glanced up the stairs, where Barb was charging down, Tatiana following behind, looking harried. Barb took the stairs two at a time, her coat billowing out behind her.

She had her phone in her hand.

“Oh fuck, Barb! Please tell me you haven’t-“ Curt clawed at his hair, his face. This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

“Have you seen it? It’s been going round the whole school!”

His stomach dropped. “Shit, Barb. I wanted to tell you… I didn’t mean-“

“Wait, you _knew_?”

“…knew what?” That was Owen. He was looking at Tatiana, who took one glance at Curt’s wrecked face and shook her head.

“About Kevin Derry!” Barb squeaked excitedly. “Everybody’s talking about it!”

“What are you talking about?” Curt’s hands were shaking. His feet were unsteady. Did he have a fever? Is that what was going on?

“Alphonse put pictures on his MySpace! Dick Big and Kevin Derry in the locker room! _Making out!_ ”

~~~

The buzz of the text echoed through the empty bathroom. Curt picked his phone up from beside the wash basin and glanced at the screen. So he’d finally been sent the news too. He placed his phone face down and rested his weight against the counter, taking in his appearance in the mirror. His hair was sticking up from where he’d been tugging at it, and his eyes were red and itchy. His face, too, was flushed, and he rubbed angrily at his cheeks.

“Curt? Are you in here?”

It was Owen’s voice, and frankly, he was a little surprised. Very few people came to the bathrooms by the school library, mostly because very few students, Curt included, used the library. Either Barb had suggested he search this place, or Owen had been looking in every secluded spot on the campus. 

“Hey.”

Owen leaned against the bathroom door, hands in his pockets. “Are you okay, love?”

“Don’t call me that,” Curt hissed, eyes still on his reflection. “Not here.”

“ _Curt…_ ”Owen was coming towards him, and Curt backed away, accidentally setting off the hand dryer. A fortunate happenstance, at least the noise would mute their conversation to the rare passing nerd. Or to Barb.

“Did you not hear them, Owen?” He felt a little like a caged animal. He was antsy, jittery. His head was working faster than his body and it made his movements erratic. He hated how little he could control himself. He hated how Owen kept moving towards him like he was a horse about to bolt from the stables. He hated how much he wanted to fall into Owen’s arms right now. “They were all _laughing_! Sergio’s dumb joke about backs to the walls?”

“They’re idiots, Curt,” Owen kept his voice steady, his hands raised as he stepped closer, as if approaching a gunman. He looked scared. _Good_ , Curt thought nastily. _He should feel as scared as I do_.

“I don’t care! Kevin’s probably going through hell right now.” _Better him than you. Until he throws you to the lions too._

“I don’t understand,” Owen gave up trying to get closer to Curt, shaking his head. He pushed at a cubicle door in frustration. “There are plenty of queer kids in this school. Dick’s already out!”

Curt sunk against the wall, letting the nervous energy drain from his body. He was more than tired. He was _defeated_. “The people who are out aren’t jocks, Owen. It’s different. Nobody wants to change with a gay person in their locker room. Gay athletes aren’t getting the college scholarships.”

“That’s not right.” Owen’s mouth was a hard line. He didn’t show anger, but Curt felt it radiating from him.

“I know it’s not right, but it’s the way things are!” Curt pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. The only thing that could make this worse was tears. “I can’t have that, Owen. Mom can’t afford college unless I get a wrestling scholarship.” And that was it. That was the thing Owen would never understand. It wasn’t that Curt didn’t want to be out, didn’t want to publicly show the world how into Owen he was. It was that he didn’t have the privilege to.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying nobody can ever know about us,” His heart ached at Owen’s crestfallen face. He pushed past Owen and headed for the door. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way things have to be.”

~~~

_RAWR!! (thats hello in dinosaur lol so ~random~)_

_Its ur fave informant Alphonse with some juicy gossip lolol. Guess whos been using the changing rooms for more than changing?!?! Head to my pictures now to see loser cowboy wannabe Dick Big and wrestling star Kevin Derry glomping each other in a wrestling move ive never seen before! O_o !!! Unless u wrestle with your lips now ROFL!!! Are these two lovebirds contenders for homecoming king and king?! how random would that be lol XD! Derrys popularity is sure to take a nosedive after this but will it distract him from the wrestling meet this week? Or will his new bf be cheering him from the sidelines? Ur informant will bring u all the gossip!_

_Comment on the pics and I might put u in my top 8 myspace friends XD ;-)_

~~~

“Tasteless and vulgar,” Owen sniffed, clicking out of Alphonse's MySpace page and closing the browser window. “And he writes on the school paper? He can barely type.”

“Hmm.” Curt was flipping aimlessly through a music magazine he had read three times before, barely focusing on the pages.

Owen turned on the chair, the glare from the heavy desktop monitor casting his face in an eerie glow. It only enhanced how tired he looked. How sad. “Curt, you haven’t spoken all night.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just-,” he got up and perched gingerly on the edge of Curt’s bed. The door was closed, but not secured by the chair and Mrs Mega was milling around the hall with her duster. “We’re alone now. Can’t we enjoy that?” He reached for Curt’s leg, then thought better of it and let his hand fall in his lap. “Or are you scared this Alphonse guy is waiting outside your window with a camera?”

“That’s not funny,” Curt muttered, even though he was trying to suppress the visual of Alphonse falling out of a tree in a trenchcoat, the flash of one of those old-timey reporter’s cameras flickering as he fell to the ground.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Yeah, well… never mind.” Why was he even mad at Owen? None of this was his fault. But still Curt wanted to blame him. If he wasn’t so damn hot… who was he kidding? It was easier to be mad at Owen than at his own cowardice.

“Do…do you want me to sleep in the other bed tonight?” Owen said quietly, picking at the corner of a blanket.

Curt tossed the magazine aside. He was being an idiot. A big dumb idiot who ruins things like he always did. “What? Owen, no. Please, come here.” He held out his arms, waiting. Owen glanced at the bedroom door, considered a moment, before scooting up the bed and enveloping Curt in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Curt whispered. “None of this is about you. I’m just…”

“Scared?” Owen pulled back a little, just enough to look in Curt’s eyes. “I understand, Curt. I told you I wouldn’t push you to come out.”

“I’ve just been living in this bubble since we got together. It’s been the best few days of my entire life. But…”

“You don’t need to explain. Until you’re ready, we’re just friends outside of this room. And if you’re never ready… I can live with that. You're the one who has to keep living here when I leave.”

Mrs Mega’s voice rang out down the hall. Dinner was ready. Owen got to his feet and brushed down his trousers. Curt didn’t move from the bed, just watched Owen. This was a good thing. This made him happy. Curt was allowed to be happy, wasn't he?

“Owen?”

“Yes, Curt?”

Curt smiled sheepishly. “You can call me love again.”

“Yes, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The age of KevBig is upon us. In my mind, the original character Kevin Derry is played by Gabe Greenspan. Do with that what you will.
> 
> I am indebted to an episode of Boy Meets World for Sergio's line about the Swiss.


	11. Going Down in an Earlier Round

“All I’m saying is you have dangerous hobbies,” Barb was ranting again. Curt could tell she was nervous because she always gripped the steering wheel tighter, took corners sharper than usual. “All three of you. Being friends with you guys is stressful.” Curt didn’t usually get travel sick, but Scared Barb’s driving could turn any stomach. He looked out of the window, focusing on the horizon. It was a tip his mom had taught him as a kid. They passed Big’s Diner, and Curt couldn’t help but wonder if Dick was there.

“Barb, dear,” Owen said, leaning forward in the backseat, holding on to Tatiana’s headrest. “Karate is about inner strength and peace, not danger.”

“Yes, and fencers wear padding and dull the tips of their blades,” Tatiana added. She had been sipping on a black coffee that they’d called for on the way, and Barb had decided to get the same order. Maybe the caffeine was contributing to her panic.

“It’s only Curt who subjects himself to concussions on a weekly basis,” Owen laughed. Curt grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back against the seat. He let his hand linger for a brief moment. He was still not over being able to touch Owen. He would never be over that. It was an addiction at this point.

“You’re not helping,” he said, but his voice was full of fondness.

“I thought you were not nervous,” Tatiana said. “I thought any man who gave himself a nickname like the _Deadliest Man Alive_ was not a threat.”

“I’m not nervous,” Curt protested. But he was. More nervous than he’d ever been before a match. Not because of his opponent, no. This was the first time Owen was going to watch him wrestle. If he fucked up like he did in Miss Houston’s class…

 _That wasn’t exactly your fault_ , he reminded himself. Although therein lay another problem. Kevin was going to be there. If he showed up. Curt hadn’t seen him or Dick anywhere since the news came out.

“I’m happy you all are so nonchalant,” Barb said sharply. “Do you know, statistically, how many brain injuries wrestlers suffer every year?”

“I don’t want to!” Curt said. He turned to Owen, widened his eyes, grabbed his arm and whined out his name. He caught himself as soon as the noise was out of his mouth. That was definitely too playful and soft to sound platonic. That was a gesture for Bedroom Curt and Bedroom Curt only. Tatiana suppressed a giggle behind her hand. Thankfully Barb was too distracted by the road and her anxiety to notice anything.

Owen shook off his grip. He was laughing but there was a warning look in his eyes, as if to say, _you wanted to keep this private. Don’t fuck it up._ “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t make her stop. She has a point.”

“Not you too!” Curt moaned. “Stop trying to talk me out of my only talent.”

Owen whipped out his phone and began typing. A few seconds later, Curt’s pocket buzzed. He pulled out his own phone and looked at the screen.

_Its not your only talent ;)_

~~~

The school gym changing room usually reeked of sweat, cheap deodorant and stale cigarettes, but that was amplified on competition day. The entire wrestling team was crammed in there, while the team from the other school used the girl’s changing room. Neither school was ready for female wrestling yet. Even Saved By the Bell had hit that milestone before them.

Well, the entire wrestling team were in there except for Kevin Derry. Coach Susan hadn’t mentioned anything about his match being cancelled, but the corner of the room he usually hogged for himself was empty. Sergio was full of life, cracking jokes and whipping his friends with his towel. He’d brought Feurgin with him, who was staring into space as usual.

Curt checked in his gym bag for the cornstarch to dry out his hands. He sweated a bit too much in the average match, but this time Owen would be watching him. It wasn’t that he thought he’d fail in front of Owen. This was the one thing that he knew he could do, and he knew he could do _well_. But Owen watching him be so physical? They touched each other constantly in the privacy of Curt’s bedroom, but it hadn’t gone much further. There was nothing sexual about his wrestling, but how would Owen react watching him grapple with another, barely dressed man? How would Curt react knowing Owen was watching him? This was exactly why Owen had never seen him practice.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the changing room had fallen silent. When he lifted his head, Kevin Derry was lingering in the doorway.

Sergio approached him slowly, wrapping his towel tightly around his fist. Curt was holding his breath. If a punch was thrown, did Curt step in to help Kevin? What would Sergio assume if he did? What might Kevin let slip about him if he didn’t? Curt bit his lip as Sergio reached Kevin, a long pause held between them.

Sergio’s face broke out into a wide grin, and he slapped Kevin on the back. “My man!” he cried. “I thought you weren’t going to make it! That boyfriend of yours keeping you distracted?”

Kevin laughed and winked at Sergio. “Something like that.”

_What._

“Boys, get yourselves out there!” Susan yelled. She had a whistle around her neck and was holding a clipboard that she never actually used. “Oh Derry, thank god. Hurry up and get changed, you’re fifth.”

“See you out there, buddy!” Sergio said as he passed Kevin. Feurgin trotted along behind the pack of wrestlers. Curt hung back. His was the last fight anyway.

Kevin dropped his bag in his corner, and turned to face Curt. Kevin Derry was the kind of guy who would look like a high school jock for the rest of his life. His dark hair was styled with too much gel, and, unless he was wrestling, showering - _or shirtless on Curt’s bed_ \- he lived in his letterman jacket. He’d matured a lot faster than anyone in the school, his chest already a carpet of thick hair. He was the kind of guy whose eyebrow was permanently raised. 

“Do you want to take a picture, Mega? It’ll last longer.”

Curt blinked. He had been staring. He probably looked insane. He reached for his water bottle. “Sorry,” he muttered, before taking a gulp.

“You know, I really ought to thank you,” Kevin said as he began to change. “If you hadn’t treated Dick like shit, we might not have had something to bond about.”

“I never treated you like shit,” Curt said. “It was you who only wanted to fool around.”

Kevin barked out a laugh. “You mean you wanted more? Please, Mega, I could smell the self-loathing on you. You never would have wanted to go public.”

“Can you blame me? The things they were saying about you…”

“You mean ‘ _oh Kevin, I’m so happy for you’_ ? ‘ _Kevin, you and Dick look so cute together!_ ’ ‘ _Kevin, you are an inspiration_!’” He wrapped his towel around his neck, a smug, satisfied grin on his face. “I’m having a great time! I’m _noteworthy_. Are you noteworthy, Mega?”

“But...Alphonse’s post…” This couldn’t be right. Curt had read the MySpace post. He’d heard Sergio’s comments in class. How was Kevin still so friendly with him? Kevin had literally threatened to punch him in the past if their own dalliances had got out there. None of this made sense.

“Sure, it would have been nice not to have someone else out me,” Kevin said. “But nobody takes what that douche has to say seriously. People are happy for me and Dick, they don’t mean anything by the jokes. I’m happy too.”

“Oh. Good.” Kevin was out, and it was _great_ for him. All of the justifications he’d given himself for staying closeted had just flown out of the window. And yet he still wanted to keep Owen secret.

 _You’re worthless_ , he told himself.

Kevin approached Curt, self-assured and smirking. “I know about you and Carvour. Dick can’t keep his mouth shut when he’s excited, and I excite him. Owen’s only here a few more weeks. How long do you think he’ll wait for your sorry ass, Mega?” He turned his back, heading for the door. “Maybe you should try not being a disappointment for once.”

~~~

Kevin’s match was immediately before Curt’s. In the past that would have been a source of anger and jealousy for Kevin. Anywhere else people mocked Curt, but on the mat, he was a hotshot. Kevin’s performance, no matter how great, was forgotten the minute Curt’s name was called.

This time was different. This time, when Kevin pinned his opponent, the crowd roared, cheered, rose to their feet. Kevin raised his arms into the air in triumph and the cheers only got louder. In the middle of the crowd, just a few rows behind Owen, Tatiana and Barb, Dick Big was hollering louder than anyone, whirling his cowboy hat in the air like he was in a rodeo. At one point, Curt could have sworn he shouted “hot damn!”

Of course it was Curt’s luck that Kevin’s forced outing would have turned him into a superstar.

Susan stood in the middle of the gymnasium, holding a microphone. “The one and only _Kevin Derry!_ ” she yelled, and the crowd roared once more. Kevin took his seat on the benches and Sergio got him in a playful headlock. Curt took a deep breath, stood up, and tried to shake the tension out of his body.

“And now, the final bout,” Susan continued. “Please put your hands together for the undefeated, the outstanding... _Curt Mega!_ ”

Was he imagining things or were his cheers much more muted? Curt walked to the mat, waving up at Owen and the girls. Barb already had her face in her hands, peering through her fingers. Tatiana was whooping and pumping her fist. Owen was politely applauding, and smiling. He mouthed _“_ you’ve got this,” and Curt’s heart soared.

“And the challenger,” Susan continued. She’d deepened her voice in a parody of a boxing announcer. His opponent wasn’t the only one with delusions of WWE superstardom. “You may know him as the _Deadliest Man Alive_ …”

The small crowd from the opposing school “oooh”ed at the pathetic nickname. Curt saw Tatiana roll her eyes.

“We know him as Dmitri Walker!”

The challenger joined him on the mat. He was tall, taller than Curt expected, and he loomed over him, but not in the way Owen’s height comforted him. Dmitri’s eyes were hard and empty. His muscles rippled beneath his singlet. Curt had bulk, but Dmitri was _ripped_ , like he’d been carved out of marble. He cracked his neck, his mouth set in a firm, tight line.

And then Dmitri bent his knees, adopting the stance. Curt mirrored him, and he felt those butterflies in his stomach again. Maybe Barb was right to be nervous. Even Dmitri’s hands looked like they were solid stone.

Susan blew her whistle and Dmitri was grappling him before Curt had time to react. Strong arms grabbed him around his middle, and he was already losing his balance. He was going to fall. He was going to be pinned immediately. Who the fuck was this guy?

In the roar of the crowd, Curt picked out one voice. A voice he’d never heard holler before. Owen was chanting for him.

Curt transferred his weight to his feet and steadied himself. He pushed at Dmitri until they were separated. Then he made his charge, managing to get Dmitri round the neck. She squeezed the muscles in his arm, intensifying the headlock, and Dmitri was relenting. He was dropping to one knee. Sergio and the other wrestlers were chanting his name. Tatiana was screaming something in Russian. He thought he even heard Dick Big whooping for him.

He didn’t know when the tide turned. He wasn’t sure which he noticed first, the collective gasp of the crowd, or the sudden sensation of his feet leaving the floor and blood rushing to his head. He was moving too fast for his eyes or his brain to process the situation. He had the vague sense that he was upside down.

Dmitri was flipping him over his head, and the mat was rapidly approaching.

He knew how to land safely. It was rare these days, but he’d been flipped before. He was going to be pinned, he was going to lose. He should have been thinking _protect your head. Protect your neck._ But what was swimming through his mind was _Owen is seeing this. The one thing I’m good at and he’s seeing this._

The last thing he heard before he hit the mat was Barb scream.

~~~

_Black._

“Stay back!”

_It hurts._

The bustle and murmuring of a crowd.

_I can’t move._

“Let me through!”

_Owen?_

“Curt! Curt, I’m here!”

_My head._

“Call an ambulance!”

_Tati._

“Love, look at me, please.”

_Black._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry.


	12. Regular Decorated Emergency

Daylight _hurt_. So did noise. His head was pounding, like he’d been hit by an anvil in some Road Runner cartoon. He could pick out vague noises; a few beeps, chatter and bustle, his mother’s voice.

“I don’t _care_ if he’s on a lunch break! I need to know if my Curtis is okay!”

His eyelids felt heavier than any weight he’d ever lifted. He tried to open his eyes, but they fell closed again. The lights were too bright anyway. This was the worst migraine he’d ever experienced. And why was his neck aching? What was that pinching sensation in his hand? He just wanted to go back to sleep. If he slept, everything would be okay.

“Mrs Mega, I think he is waking up.” Tatiana’s voice. Why was Tatiana watching him sleep?

“Curtis? Curtis, baby. Mama’s here.”

It was time to try lifting his eyelids again. Why did he feel drunk? The fluorescent light was burning his retinas. It was like staring into the sun. Shadows passed over his vision but he couldn’t focus on them.

“Curt, are you okay?” _God, Barb. Shut up!_ Her voice wasn’t doing his headache any favours.

“Will someone find us a damn doctor?” Okay, his mom’s voice was worse. He suddenly felt like he wanted to vomit. His stomach was churning like a damn washing machine. His eyes were beginning to focus, but he needed to squint. It took too much energy to keep them open.

“I’m here.”

 _Owen_.

His was the face that came into focus first, and goddamn he looked like an angel. That light that Curt hated so much was like a halo around his dark hair. His eyes were red, and puffy, but he still looked perfect. So perfect.

 _I love him_ , Curt thought.

There was some sort of commotion to his left, but he didn’t yet have the strength to turn his head. His neck hurt so damn much.

“The doctor needs to take a look at you,” Owen said. His voice was so soft, so gentle. Curt just wanted to curl up against him and hear that voice in his ear. If he could move, he’d reach for Owen right now. _I love him_.

“We’ll be right outside, honey,” his mom said.

“Owen…” he managed to croak out. His voice was so hoarse. How long had he been asleep?

Owen rested his hand on Curt’s ankle for a brief moment. “I’ll be back.”

“No, no I can’t.” He was in a hospital. The pinch in his hand was an IV drip. He had to leave. His mom… he tried to tug at the cannula, but Owen’s hand stilled him.

“Curt, stop.”

“We can’t,” the words weren’t forming. This was _bad_. “Hospital. Mom can’t afford…”

“It’s covered.”

~~~

Nothing was broken. That was the good news. He’d slammed down on the back of his neck, and hard. The doctor said if the mat hadn’t been thick enough, he could have been paralysed, but all he was experiencing there was mild whiplash. At the word _paralysed_ , he’d started crying. He was tired, he was sore, he didn’t care how unmanly his tears were. _Paralysed_. He was eighteen years old. He couldn’t be paralysed. _The doctor said you’re_ not _paralysed, idiot,_ he told himself, but he still couldn’t move past the word. At the mention of it, his mom had ranted about getting the school, Dmitri’s school, Dmitri himself, sued. They couldn’t get away with hurting her boy. How irresponsible. Why was the school entrusting the wrestling team to a secretary?

 _It’s my fault_ , Curt thought through her rant. _I was distracted. I’m useless._

No, he wasn’t paralysed. But they couldn’t rule out a brain injury yet. _Brain damage_. Barb tried to lighten the mood by joking that he didn’t use his brain much anyway, but quickly was horrified by the words escaping her lips and excused herself to the bathroom. Tatiana followed her.

“What does this mean?” Owen had asked. Curt so desperately wanted to hold his hand, but he was too far away, perching on the windowsill so Mrs Mega could take the only chair.

The scan on his neck had revealed some swelling in the brain. The doctor said it was only slight, and would probably ease off and recover fully, but to be safe he needed an MRI and to stay overnight for observation. Christ, how much did an MRI cost? His mom was going to be destitute. He tried to protest, but Owen said those two words again. “It’s covered.”

~~~

He’d heard an MRI machine was pretty scary, but it was nothing compared to seeing it in the flesh. The giant tube looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie, and he had visions of a xenomorph crawling inside and attacking him, or being sealed inside and jettisoned through an airlock into deep space. Could they have not done this while he was still unconscious? Where were the girls? Owen? His mom was watching through the glass, biting her thumbnail down to a stump, while nurses and technicians buzzed around her. One of the nurses injected something into his cannula. She told him in a gentle voice that it was a dye to help with the imaging. Was his brain going to turn green now? Was this how it worked?

“What music do you like?” One of the technicians asked him. Was this a distraction technique? What was happening? He didn’t answer. He still wasn’t processing.

The technician held up a pair of headphones. They looked cheap and flimsy, the kind of headphones you’d find in a school computer lab. “The machine gets pretty loud,” he said. “We play music to drown it out.”

“Oh…” Curt said. Music? He liked music. Who did he like again? He'd forgotten the name of every band in existence. Why wouldn’t his brain work? “I… I think I like Blink-182.”

“You think?” the technician laughed. “I got you covered, kid.” He gently placed the headphones over Curt’s ears, but nothing was playing yet. “It’s not going to block out the sound, but it’ll keep you distracted. This isn’t nice, kid, but the noise is normal. Nothing to be scared of.” The technician raised the cushioning around the headphones, keeping his head in place, gave him a thumbs up, and he was alone.

The headphones crackled with life, and an unfamiliar voice pumped into his ears. “Okay, Curt. We’re ready to begin as soon as you tell us you are ready. This is going to last for about thirty minutes. It is important that you stay completely still throughout this. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“I...I think so?”

“If you have any itches, you’d better scratch them now. Make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. Thirty minutes is a long time, but we need you to do this so we can check you’re okay.”

Curt took a deep breath. He had a wedgie. A room full of medical professionals was going to watch him pluck his underwear from his butt. At least he did it with the hand that didn’t have the cannula. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”

“Curtis, I love you, sweetie!” his mom’s voice sounded distant through the headphones.

“We’re going to move you inside the machine now, okay?” And he was moving, as if on a conveyer belt. As if he was a plate of sushi. Noises echoed throughout the tube, and already he wanted to fidget.

“Are you okay, Curt?”

“Yes!” he called out. His voice was loud in here.

“We’re going to start the music, and then the machine will start. If at any point you feel unwell or like something is wrong, you tell us so we can get you out of there, okay?”

Before he could respond, the voice of Tom DeLonge filled his ears, followed by a loud clanging. The machine was coming to life.

_All the small things._

This didn’t feel so small.

~~~

After the MRI, all he wanted to do was sleep, but the doctors advised him that he needed to stay awake at least until he had the results.

Thankfully, Curt had Barb. There was no way he was getting to sleep with Barb around.

“I _warned_ you! Didn’t I warn you? I said it was dangerous!”

“Yes, Barb,” he groaned.

“But do you ever listen to me? No!” she ranted. “I don’t mean to blame you, Curt. That guy wasn’t playing by the rules. But I knew you’d get hurt!”

“Barb, I do not think Curt needs this right now,” Tatiana said. They’d brought extra chairs into his room, and that was another thing. Why wasn’t he on a ward? How much was this private room costing them? Tatiana was sat by his bedside, picking at the grapes that Curt was sure were supposed to be for him, while Barb paced up and down by the door. Owen was in the far corner of the room, slumped in a chair, his jacket draped over him like a blanket. Curt could see him nodding off. How many hours had they been here? The sky was black outside the window, but that could mean anything. The nights were growing longer after all.

“I’m upset!” Barb snapped.

“Curt will be fine,” Tatiana said. She took Curt’s hand, and gave it a little squeeze. “He is very strong.”

“Thanks, Tati,” Curt said softly. “But let her keep shouting at me. It’s keeping me awake.”

“I’m glad my concern is a joke to you,” Barb was pouting now, and frankly, it was adorable. He loved her so much. He loved Tatiana too. And he _definitely_ loved Owen. But Barb had been his partner in crime for years. Her love for him was unconditional and undying, and he never told her enough how much he appreciated her. Before Owen came along, Barb was the only one who kept him sane. He might have even fallen for her, if only she didn’t have a vagina.

Maybe those painkillers were kicking in.

“You’re quiet,” Tatiana said, but it was to Owen. Owen blinked a few times in rapid succession, and shifted in his seat. He looked terrible, maybe even worse than Curt.

“Long day,” Owen mumbled.

“You can go to sleep,” Curt said.

“No, we need to keep you awake.”

“We will look after him,” Tatiana said. “You look exhausted.”

Curt met Owen’s eyes. “I’m okay. I promise.”

~~~

As Owen napped, the neurologist came in to tell him that the MRI looked okay. He had to stay in for observation, but from what they could tell, there was no lasting damage. He then lectured Curt for twenty minutes about the fragility of the brain and the spinal cord, and how lucky he was to come out of his injury relatively unscathed. Mrs Mega and Barb nodded along sagely at his every point. Curt had never been more thankful that he’d met Tatiana than when he saw her holding back a giggle at Barb’s stern look and crossed arms.

After the doctor had left, his mom said she was going outside for a smoke and to call Janice. She hadn’t smoked for around five years, and there was Curt’s shame washing over him again that he’d given her such stress. Plus, with the money his treatment was going to cost them… Owen kept saying it was _covered_. By what? Could his mom suddenly afford health insurance?

Barb left not much later than that to get some sleep, promising she’d be back first thing the next morning. Tatiana insisted she wasn’t tired and didn’t go with her, offering to make sure Curt stayed awake until the doctors let him sleep, Owen woke up, or Mrs Mega returned.

“You should not feel bad,” Tatiana said when they were alone. “I would tell you if any of this was your fault.”

“What happened Tati?” Curt asked. “I don’t remember it.”

Tatiana rested her long legs over Curt’s bed, leaning back in her chair. She’d taken off her shoes and her toenails were painted red. Curt was still a little out of it from the painkillers, if the amount he was staring at those toes was anything to go by.

“What do you remember?” Tatiana asked.

“Last thing I remember fully was the locker room,” Curt said. “Kevin Derry truly hates me, by the way.” Had it really been only a few hours since he was panicking about what Kevin had to say to him? Here, in a hospital bed, Owen exhausted in an uncomfortable plastic chair, Kevin and Dick Big felt so insignificant.

“You said _fully_ ,” Tatiana said. “You remember other things?”

“Bits of it,” Curt said. “I remember what Dmitri looked like. And I remember you all cheering for me. But I don’t remember the fight at all.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” Tatiana mused. “All you need to know is that Dmitri broke the rules and you got hurt.”

They were quiet for a while. Curt stared out of the window to the hospital corridor. He hadn’t been in hospital since the day he was born, despite all the injuries he’d gotten in his life of wrestling and doing dumb shit. Sure, none of those injuries were as serious as swelling on the brain and whiplash, but something irked him. The same thing that had been bothering him all day.

“Tati,” he asked quietly, not wanting Owen to wake up. “What did Owen mean when he said it’s _covered_?”

“Your hospital expenses,” she replied. She was twirling the string of the helium balloon Barb had bought around her finger. “They’re paid for.”

“By who?” Curt asked. Tatiana nodded over to Owen’s sleeping form.

“No,” Curt shook his head. This couldn’t get more embarrassing. As if his family’s finances didn’t embarrass him enough after what his dad did, now the guy he made out with and was in love with was bailing him out? “No, he can’t do that.”

“ _He_ did not,” Tatiana said. “He called his aunt. She is paying for your expenses.”

“Why would she do that?”

Tatiana smiled. “You will have to ask him. This is more than just a, how you say, _fling_ , is it not?”

It was more. Of course it was more. For Curt, his every waking moment was consumed by thoughts of Owen. His days at school were just minutes he had to pass until he could touch Owen again, kiss him, hold him and be held by him. He’d never been _in love_ before. But he was pretty sure this was what it felt like. Love brought with it more feelings of nausea than he anticipated, but it was a good nausea, like the queasy-stomached adrenaline rush of a rollercoaster. Love made him smile without needing a reason, and in the days before, he didn’t smile much. Love made him feel like he was worth something. He was important to someone and that gave him meaning.

Were they more than a fling? Owen wasn’t his boyfriend. They’d never even discussed it. And he left in a few weeks. This may have been love, but love had an expiration date.

~~~

Tatiana left some time after 6am. Mrs Mega agreed to drive her back to Barb’s, but only if Owen promised not to take his eyes off Curt the whole time she was gone. Owen had slept for a long time in that cramped chair, his long legs tucked into his body as best as they could be. Even awake, he still looked exhausted, although he’d got more rest than Curt did. The nurses finally allowed Curt to sleep around 3am, satisfied he wasn’t in any further danger, but he’d only dosed. He spent half the time thinking about what Tatiana had told him, that Aunt Sybil was covering his expenses - what had Owen _told_ her? - and the other half watching Owen sleep while Tatiana flicked through the channels and Mrs Mega bothered the night staff. Unlike now, Owen usually looked peaceful in sleep. Curt knew, because he watched him all the time, and he realised this was the first night they’d slept apart since the bunker.

He realised he now couldn’t sleep without Owen’s touch.

They touched a lot, to say they hadn’t exactly gone far. They didn’t even sleep shirtless together. Winter was approaching, which was the excuse he told himself, but truthfully, he’d been holding back, and he thought Owen might have been too. Protecting themselves from future heartbreak, maybe? Their relationship was doomed by its very nature. An ocean would soon separate them, and how could Curt compete against nature itself?

Still, he regretted his reluctance now. If he’d died in the fight, without ever once knowing what it was like to _truly_ touch Owen, well, he’d condemn himself to hell for that mistake.

“Good morning,” Owen finally said softly after Tatiana and Mrs Mega left.

“I miss you,” Curt said.

“I’m right here,” Owen laughed.

“No you’re not,” Curt moaned. “You’re over _there!_ ”

Owen got up and stretched, revealing a sliver of tummy under his shirt, and came over to Curt’s bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, just in line with Curt’s hips, and took one of his hands. “Better?” he asked.

“Much,” Curt sighed happily, lacing their fingers together.

“Are you in pain?” Owen asked.

“Not much,” Curt said. “They got me on the good stuff.”

Owen lifted their entwined hands, pressed a kiss to each of Curt’s knuckles. “I don’t think I’ve been so scared in a long time.”

What could have scared him so much a long time ago? The realisation hit him harder than the floor had done.

_His parents._

That must have been why Owen got Aunt Sybil to pay the medical bills. Hospitals couldn’t have saved them. Owen couldn’t save them. He could save Curt. He still didn’t know why Aunt Sybil had agreed, but he didn’t think to ask. Had they taken the money from Owen's inheritance, or was it Sybil's own?

“I’m going to be okay,” Curt reassured him. This was no time to ask questions about their death or his money.

“I know, love,” Owen said. His eyes were red again. “Thank God.”

“Listen, I have something to ask you.”

“What is it?”

 _Here goes_. ”What are we?”

Owen laughed. “That’s a very existential question.”

“Shut up,” Curt huffed playfully. “No, I mean, what are we to each other.”

“We’re…” It wasn’t often Owen was lost for words, but now they seemed to die on his tongue. Eventually, he said, “we’re _us_.”

“Owen,” Curt said. “I’d like it if you were my boyfriend.”

Owen thought for a moment. “I think I would like that too.”

Owen leaned in, a soft, delicate kiss as if Curt was made from fine China. He didn’t mind, the gentleness felt more intimate, as if they were the only two people in the whole universe. The clinical environment, the busy noise, the fluorescent lighting, they all faded away into Owen’s kiss. There was time for something more. For now, this was perfect. Owen was his _boyfriend,_ however long that could last.

They broke apart, and Owen pressed another kiss to his hair. It was then that Curt opened his eyes.

And saw Barb in the doorway.

She was holding a small bouquet of flowers, but she had frozen with them by her side. Her expression was a mixture of confusion, shock, and _hurt_. Her hand was trembling. Owen hadn’t noticed her, still smiling fondly at Curt.

“Barb…” Curt choked out, and she ran.

“ _Barb!_ ” he called after her, but she tore past his window and down the corridor. Owen whipped his head round just as her blonde hair flashed out of view.

“Go after her!” Curt ordered.

“What? I-” Owen stammered.

“Well I can’t exactly chase her, can I?” he snapped, waving the hand with the IV drip in his face.

“I’m not leaving you alone, Curt.”

It was at that point Mrs Mega re-entered the room. She had a mobile phone pressed against her chest. “Owen, sweetie. Can I have a minute with my son?”

Curt looked Owen dead in the eye. “Talk to Barb.”

Owen sighed. “I’ll try.”

Mrs Mega watched Owen leave silently, that phone still pressed to her chest. Curt tried to swallow down the panic rising in his chest. _Barb knows. Barb knows and I didn’t even get to tell her._

“Curtis, honey,” Mrs Mega said cautiously. “Now please don’t get mad at me.”

Whatever his mom had done, it couldn’t have been any more disastrous than his last twenty-four hours had been. She’d probably just yelled at another nurse and now he was getting the worst flavour of jell-o with his food.

“What is it, mom?”

Mrs Mega held the phone out to Curt. There was a withheld number on the line.

“Curtis,” she said, “it’s your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the time I had an MRI on my bowel to check for Crohn's and they gave me headphones where I listened to Eurovision bangers to get through it because it was the week after Eurovision happened and I got told off for moving in the machine because Euphoria came on and I got excited.
> 
> Just an insight into my life for you.


	13. Your Voice of Treason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for REASONS this has now grown from 18 chapters total to 20. Basically, this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I initially planned so I've broken it down a bit. Because I've broken it down so much we've lost a bit of the character to the backstory I wanted to get out in this chapter, but I hope it still works.
> 
> A few things to bring up before we start. I'm sorry this chapter is very dialogue and exposition heavy, but you can't do a lot of action when one of your characters has whiplash.
> 
> We're also getting into a lot of Curt's trauma here. I need to issue a trigger warning for a mention of suicide, but this mention has nothing to do with Curt, Owen, or any of the characters in the story. Still, I wanted to flag it up.
> 
> Also if you like Labyrinth, this is the chapter for you.

“Curtis, did you hear me?”

_His father._

“Curtis, do I need to call the doctor?”

“What?” he shook his head to snap himself out of his daze. That was a mistake; the shooting pain up his neck told him so. _You have whiplash, idiot!_ “No. I’m fine.”

“Well, take the phone, then!” she gestured with the cell. He curled his fingers around it slowly. His _father_ . The father he hadn’t seen since middle school, hadn’t spoken to in three years. What did he say? What did he _want_?

“Hello?” Curt said into the receiver.

_“Hi Curtis. It’s your father.”_

“I know.” He swallowed. His tongue felt too big for his mouth all of a sudden. He barely even recognised the voice at the other end of the line. It had been so long.

_“Your mother called the prison. They’ve only just let me use the phone."_

“Oh.” What else was he supposed to say? Why did his mom even call him? It’s not like he was in their lives anymore. He listened to his father’s long sigh down the receiver. The line wasn’t great, and his voice was crackling.

_“Are you okay?”_

“Sure. I’m fine.” A nurse came in with a clipboard. Discharge papers. Maybe if he got out of here soon enough, he could catch up with Barb.

_“I was scared, son. When they told me what happened to you…”_

“Yeah, well, it’s all okay,” he didn’t want to be having this conversation. His mind was still on Barb, on how she’d react when Owen caught up with her. Would she cry? Would she shout? Would she ever talk to either of them again? His so-called father was just delaying him from at least attempting to fix this. “I’m just waiting to be discharged.”

_“I’m so relieved, son. You know how I feel about fighting.”_

“You have no right to judge what I do,” Curt snapped. The nurse’s head shot up at the tone in Curt’s voice. Mrs Mega took the clipboard from her and signed her name.

_“I know, Curtis. Listen, I don’t have much time…”_

“Good.”

_“I understand you being angry at me. But I miss you, son.”_

Mrs Mega picked up the bag with Curt’s things, an apologetic smile on her face. “I need to go.”

_“I’d like it if you came to visit me sometime.”_

“Bye.”

~~~

“Curtis, honey, are you feeling up to food? I can get us some take-out.” Curt sat in the back seat, rigid and awkward in his neck brace. The whiplash wasn’t so bad that he needed it all the time, but he couldn’t ride in a car without it for at least a couple of days. Owen sat with him in the back, tapping out a rhythm on his knee. He looked antsy, impatient. Just how Curt felt. They hadn’t had any chance to discuss Barb, not with his mom around.

“I’m not very hungry, mom.” It was true. All the pain meds he’d been pumped through with had left him feeling queasy.

“Well I’m sure Owen is,” Mrs Mega said, a forced cheeriness in her voice. “What do you say to a McDonald’s?”

“Thank you, Mrs Mega,” Owen said politely. 

“Oh, don’t mention it! It’s the least I can do when you looked after my boy so well!” She pulled into a spot in the McDonald’s car park, turned off the engine and ran inside, her coat over her head to protect from the light rain. Curt had never been so thankful that she’d chosen not to take the drive-thru.

He wanted to turn to Owen. He was desperate to see him, to see what he could register in his eyes. Was Owen as freaked out as he was? The neck brace didn’t allow it, and when Curt tried to shift his whole body, Owen grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“Did you find her?” Curt asked, trying to capture a glimpse of him in his peripheral vision.

“She’d already gone,” Owen said. “I think maybe she needs a little time alone. Tati will look after her.”

~~~

His mom had bought him food anyway, and he found when he got back to his own space, with the neck brace off and wearing a comfy t-shirt and sweatpants, he was _starving_.

“So the doctor says I need at least three days rest before I go back to school,” he said around a mouthful of fries.

Owen nodded. “I suppose if Barb isn’t willing to pick me up, I could walk there.”

“Why wouldn’t Barb pick you up, sweetie?” Mrs Mega asked. She was fussing again, continually shifting the pillow behind Curt’s back, clearing away food cartons the minute Owen had eaten his last chicken nugget.

“She, uhh…” Curt began. He was not quick with lies, even if he was experienced in telling them.

“She has to get there early this week,” Owen jumped in. “She is doing some extra credit.”

“Good girl,” Mrs Mega said with a smile. “You should learn from her, Curtis. Spend your time learning something instead of getting yourself hurt.”

“ _Moooom._ ”

“What?” Mrs Mega shrugged. “Your teacher called me to check how you were. Miss Houston, is it? She said you’d written a really impressive report for her class, and she was giving you an A-!” She was practically vibrating with pride. “An A-, Curtis! It could have even been an A if you’d included more references. So don’t you ever tell me you’re not smart again.”

“What report?” He hadn’t submitted anything to Miss Houston. It must have been someone else’s work. She must have called the wrong parent.

As if sensing Curt’s confusion, Owen explained. “I gave her the script for your Thatcher presentation, after you didn’t get to do it. Congratulations.”

Oh, that explained it. Owen got him the grade. Sure, Curt researched it. Curt wrote it by himself, even. But Owen told him what to do. That was Owen’s A-. He hadn't got anything above a B- since freshman year.

Not long after that, Mrs Mega took herself to bed. Curt didn’t blame her, the past two days had been exhausting. He was pretty tired himself, even though it wasn’t even dark outside yet. Owen was tapping out another message on his phone. He hoped it was to Barb. The idea of Owen going to school without him, without _anyone_ to talk to...

“You could bunk off with me?” Curt suggested. It was a perfect idea. Days at home, where they had an excuse to be alone, to be lazy, to avoid Barb and Kevin and the whole outside world, and they could do it together. They could be boyfriends. Owen looked up from his screen, puzzled. “Come on, Owen. How much are you really learning at our school anyway? You’re already leagues ahead of everyone except Barb academically.”

“Still I should…” he began. He looked worried.

“Miss Houston is not going to call your Aunt Sybil about three days off. She barely cares if any of her normal students show up.”

Owen smiled. He dropped the phone to the table and took Curt’s hand in his. “I guess you need to be supervised through your recovery.”

“So you’re staying home?”

“Yes, love.”

~~~

**From: tatiana.slozhno@hotmail.com**

**To: owencrox@yahoo.co.uk; curtmegazord@hotmail.com**

_Hello boys. I have set up a new email because I do not want this message on my Russian email address. Curt I hope you are feeling better. I have been talking to Barb. She is upset but I do not think she is mad at you for being together. I think she is upset because you did not tell her and I think I have upset her too by saying I knew about you two. She is embarrassed also. I think I understand why. I think I am the only person in this friendship who is not infatuated with Curt Mega. This gives me power._

_I have decided to tell her that I am a lesbian. I hope that by explaining why I have wanted to keep it secret, she will understand why you did not tell her. You are not making me out myself. This is my choice and I wanted to tell her before I left because she has been a very good friend._

_She is hurt but I think she will forgive you. Please give her a few days. I will encourage her to talk to you._

~~~

Owen slept in the other bed that night. It was purely a practical arrangement. Curt needed the space to be comfortable and rest his neck and that couldn’t happen with two bodies tucked into a single bed. Still, two nights without Owen made Curt restless and needy. Owen kept getting up in the night, sitting on the edge of Curt’s mattress and talking to him quietly until he went off to sleep again. He was going to be a mess when Owen left, but that was a problem for Future Curt.

“Are you comfortable?” Owen asked. The next morning Curt’s mom had left early to sell her wares at a craft fair in the neighbouring town. It wasn’t something she did often. Mrs Mega panicked in large crowds, but she had woken in a good mood, and declared over breakfast that if her son could withstand a near-death experience, she could handle a Sunday crowd interested in handmade soaps and knitted teddy bears. That gave them the first of several days alone together. They’d already told Mrs Mega about the plan for Owen to stay home with him, and she had been receptive to the idea, since Janice’s daughter’s wedding was only in a few weeks and she still had to finish the hems on the bridesmaid dresses. One good thing his father had given them was the time Mrs Mega needed to become an in-demand seamstress.

“I’d be more comfortable if you sat down with me,” Curt said. He was curled up on the sofa, surrounded by pillows and tucked into an old woollen blanket his mom had knitted when he was in middle school. Owen bustled around the kitchen, cupboard doors opening and slamming.

“In a moment, dear. I have to get the snacks!” He entered a few moments later, a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. Two Diet Cokes already sat on the cluttered coffee table.

“So, what are we watching?” Curt asked. He’d been staring lazily at the DVD logo bouncing around the black screen and it was starting to become hypnotic.

Owen knelt in front of the TV. “I thought we would watch my favourite film.”

“What’s that? Ooh, let me guess,” Curt bit his lip in thought. “The Shawshank Redemption. No, Godfather Part 2. _The Parent Trap_!”

Owen laughed at that final suggestion, and after agreeing that he believed Lindsay Lohan to be a promising talent, he held up a DVD case.

“Seriously?” Curt said.

“What?”

“It’s… I just didn’t expect that.”

Owen turned to put the disc into the DVD player. “Labyrinth is a classic! The puppeteering is exceptional, the story is more complex than it has any right to be…”

“And David Bowie’s crotch bulge?” Curt interrupted, eyebrow raised.

Owen nodded. “And David Bowie’s crotch bulge.” He got up, picked up the remote, and settled into Curt’s side. There was a pillow between them, but Curt still felt Owen’s warmth. Owen picked up the bowl of popcorn and rested it on his lap.

“Okay, well I haven’t seen this since I was a kid and all I remember is being freaked out by those things that tore their heads off.”

Owen laughed, and leaned over the cushion to peck Curt’s cheek. “I’ll protect you,” he joked, and hit play.

~~~

So, Labyrinth was awesome. Sure, now he was older, the implications of a seemingly immortal Goblin king, played by a rock star in his late 30s, lusting after a teenage girl was uncomfortable, but if Curt ignored that, it was charming. The sense of humour was a little weird, and the imagination of the whole thing was spectacular. It reminded Curt of Owen.

Sarah had just taken a bite of the peach Hoggle had given her. Owen had laughed as Curt yelled at the screen _Don’t do it!_ Sarah was starting to hallucinate, and it reminded Curt a little of the effects of his painkillers. A bubble was floating through the sky. At the sight of it, Owen stood up.

“Are you feeling okay to stand?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I just want to do something,” Owen said. He was pushing the coffee table out of the way. One of the Diet Coke bottles fell over, but it was empty. Curt stood up a little warily.

“Now, face me,” Owen instructed. “Try not to move your neck.”

“Owen, what is happening?” Curt said, even as he did as Owen asked. Owen stood to face him, took both of Curt’s hands in his, and placed them on his hips.

“Now,” Owen said, “I’d put my arms around your neck but that might hurt you, so we’ll have to do the mutual waist hug.” He slipped his own hands around Curt’s middle and held him closer. Music was starting to fill the room as Sarah made her way through a masquerade ball in a frankly ridiculous dress.

_There’s such a sad love, deep in your eyes…_

Owen began swaying from side to side, and Curt matched his movements, careful to keep his head as straight as possible.

_I’ll place the sky within your eyes…_

“Owen…” Curt began, his voice soft, but Owen shushed him. And then he started singing.

On the screen, Sarah and Jareth were swirling around a ballroom floor. They couldn’t have that. Curt was too sore and had little rhythm. But he did have Owen and David Bowie simultaneously serenading him.

 _I love him_ , he thought again, but he didn’t say it.

“But I’ll be there for you,” Owen sang. He could carry a tune, but his voice was soft, quiet, and breathy. Even though they were alone, the song was for Curt and Curt alone. “As the world falls down.”

His neck be damned. Curt silenced him with a kiss.

~~~

“Can I tell you something?” Owen still insisted he was going to sleep in the other bed, but at least while they were awake, they shared, Curt lying straight back and Owen on his side, resting his head on his hand as he looked down at Curt. It was late, and Mrs Mega hadn’t come home. She had called though, and she sounded like she was having a good time. His mom needed a good time more often.

“Always,” Owen said.

“In the hospital, when you were looking for Barb, I got a phone call,” Curt took in a breath. “From my dad.”

“Oh,” Owen said. He thought for a moment, as the realisation dawned on him. “Oh _wow_. That’s a big deal.”

“Yeah,” Curt sighed.

“You haven’t spoken to him in years, right?” Owen asked.

“Exactly,” Curt said. He was twisting the hem of his t-shirt in his fingers. There was something about fabric passing between his fingers that eased his anxiety in uncomfortable moments. “Mom called the prison when I was still unconscious, and now he just wants to waltz back into my life again.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“I don’t know what I want.” He didn’t. He’d never actually wanted anything strongly in his life. Except for Owen.

“Love, you don’t need to answer this but…” Owen began.

“You wanna know what he did.”

Owen nodded. “It feels unlikely that he would have served a sixteen year sentence for a few bad investments.”

Curt flicked his eyes up to meet Owen’s. His face was so soft, so sincere. “You know, you could have googled all of this.” Owen had said he’d looked at Curt’s MySpace before he came to America. Surely some news articles would have shown up in the search.

“That would have felt like a betrayal, and some secrets aren’t the internet’s to share,” Owen said. “I didn’t want to know unless you told me.”

“Okay, okay. If we’re doing story time, you have to do the hair thing while I tell you.”

“You and the hair thing,” Curt laughed.

“I love the hair thing.” The hair thing wasn’t anything special, but Curt loved the feeling of Owen’s fingers in his hair. He found the sensation soothing; it helped him regulate his breathing, to relax. Maybe it was because his mom used to play with his hair when he couldn’t sleep, only unlike with his mom, this came with an overwhelming urge to kiss Owen while he did it.

“Okay, but you have to lie back. You need to rest your neck.” That ruled out kissing, but Owen rested his face against Curt’s cheek, his soft breathing in Curt’s ear, and he brought his hand up to curl a strand of Curt’s hair around his finger.

“Alright, here we go,” Curt said. He swallowed thickly and stared at the ceiling. “So my dad used to work in insurance, right? And he made quite a lot of money from it. Enough that mom didn’t need to work so she spent all her time on her crafts and raising me. But his bosses...you know what a Ponzi scheme is?”

“Some sort of investment scheme, yes?” He felt Owen’s lips moving against his cheek.

“Yeah. Anyway, they brought dad on board. He didn’t really get the full picture of what they were doing, or at least that’s what he says. They just promised him more money and he had me and mom to support. But when it all went south, he took the fall for it.” He was talking quickly now. It made it easier. The faster he said it, the less likely he was to change his mind.

“What do you mean?” Owen asked. He was still massaging Curt’s scalp with one hand, his own head trapping his arm between it and the pillow, while his other hand had come to rest on his chest, tapping out a light rhythm.

“His bosses. They all hired these fancy lawyers and got off. But dad… mom says he was honest to a fault. He admitted his part in it, hoping he’d get a lighter sentence, but the other guys pinned it all on him. They all got off and moved away, and my dad got five years.”

“So everyone thought it was just your dad’s fault?”

“Oh, I think everyone knew he wasn’t the only one,” he caught the bitterness in his own voice. He felt swelling in his throat, that feeling he always got when he knew there were sobs threatening to break lose but he wanted to hold them back. “But because he was the only one who got sent down, everyone’s parents who’d lost money looked down on us, you know? They’d tell their kids to stay away from me. Not a lot of crime goes on in this town so it was a big deal. It eased off eventually, but it’s one of the reasons I didn’t have many friends.” He could see the classrooms now, remembered his teachers forcing the other children to work with him. That was when he’d lost all interest in education. “Barb moved to the area later.”

“Curt, I’m sorry.” Owen raised himself a little, kissed his forehead, and lay back down, returning to the gentle massage.

“Don’t be. If they’re too dumb to realise a child isn’t to blame for their parents going broke, I don’t want to be friends with them. So that’s why my dad went down.” He hadn’t answered Owen’s question. He wanted to. He so desperately wanted to unburden himself of the tightness in his chest he’d felt since his dad’s phone call. But how did he put that feeling into words? He wished he had superpowers. If he could just pass on a vision to Owen, didn’t have to say any of this stuff. He felt like he was in therapy again.

“And after the five years?” Owen asked, softly.

Curt swallowed again. That lump was not leaving his throat. “This is the tough bit, okay? You’re not gonna like it, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to be with me after this.” _Please, please don’t let this ruin us._

“Nothing would make me want to end this, Curt.”

“You haven’t heard it yet. Are you sure you want to know?” He bit his lip, waiting for the answer that would terrify him, no matter what it was.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Owen said.

“Okay,” Curt said. He was brave, and Owen was reasonable and understanding. He could do this, but he had to close his eyes. “So dad did three years, and everything was going well. He’d kept himself out of trouble, and they were talking about early parole for good behaviour. We’d had to move to this apartment because we couldn’t afford our old place, and we were still living out of boxes, but mom had started pulling out all dad’s stuff.” He huffed out a little laugh. “I remember her telling me about all the things we were going to do together when he came home.”

“You were, what? Five?” With his eyes closed, and Owen so close, his voice echoed through him, warmed him from the inside out.

“Six. And I idolised dad at the time. People at school kept telling me what an awful person he was, but I thought they were jealous. Mom had told me what an honest man he was, and how I should look up to him because he took responsibility for his actions. At school we’d just been learning about Nelson Mandela, and I know it’s stupid, but I’d convinced myself he was serving time for a good cause like he was.” He felt his face getting warmer. Shame and embarrassment were his bedfellows long before Owen was.

“What happened?”

“They said he could probably look at getting a parole hearing within the next three months.” This wasn’t working. Lying here, Owen so close and so loving. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t keep allowing himself the comfort of Owen’s touch, not with what he was about to say. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up off the bed. Owen shifted, confused, but didn’t move to stop him. “Anyway, around that time, this new inmate came in. The prison was out of town and there weren’t many inmates from here. But this new guy was. It was only a minor thing. I think mom said it was marijuana possession or something.”

“Did your dad know him?” Owen asked. He was still on the bed, keeping himself upright by resting on his hands while his legs still stretched out along the mattress. Curt faced the window, watching the shadows of leaves dance in the night breeze.

“No, but he knew my dad. Or he knew of him. His brother had been one of the victims of the Ponzi scheme. He, uhh…” Curt gripped the windowsill to steady himself. “His brother had been left with nothing. I didn’t know anything about these people because they didn’t have kids, and the only adults I knew were parents. But I remember hearing about death some time around dad’s trial.” He dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “The guy’s brother killed himself.”

“Oh god,” Owen said under his breath.

Curt could hear his voice cracking, the tears springing in his eyes and threatening to fall. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the tree, but wasn’t really seeing it. All he could see was his mother, younger than she was now, holding the phone receiver. And she was crying. “And this man, his name was Daniel, he comes charging up to my dad, and he’s screaming _you killed my brother! You killed him!_ And my dad doesn’t even know who this man is. But the man’s still screaming and he’s starting to throw punches. My dad tried to step away or to attract a guard’s attention, but this guy was just wailing on him.”

“Curt, you can stop…” He heard the creek of the bed, the sound of Owen’s footsteps behind him.

“No, I’ve gone this far,” Curt insisted. “So the guy’s still beating on my dad, and there was a crowd around him but the guards still hadn’t come to break it up. And my dad, he said he was scared what he might do to him.” Tears sprung from the pools gathering under his eyelids, running down his face. His voice was broken, small. He sounded like a child. “He said it was self-defence…”

“Shhh… it’s okay,” Owen soothed. He hugged Curt gently from behind.

Curt turned in his arms. “One punch, Owen. He threw one punch. And it killed him.”

Owen’s silence stretched on for an eternity, or at least it seemed to Curt that it did. He searched Owen’s face for any tell, any indication of the disgust he must have felt, the disgust that was making Curt’s skin crawl. But there was none. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“My dad killed someone,” Curt protested. Why didn’t he _get_ it? Why wasn’t he running away? He was the son of a killer. He deserved shame. He didn’t deserve Owen.

“By accident.” Owen said, and kissed his lips. Curt could taste the salt of his own tears in the kiss. Even though it hurt his neck, he deepened the kiss, as if he was drowning and Owen was oxygen. He dragged Owen closer, clutching at the fabric on his back to ground him. He didn’t deserve this, but he wasn’t letting it go.”

“How can you even stand to touch me right now?” Curt asked when their lips parted.

“Because you blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault,” Owen said. “And you deserve to be happy, Curt. And I hope that’s what I make you.”

 _I love him_ , Curt thought again. _He leaves in a month and I love him. I’m fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Labyrinth is my favourite film of all time, and I've decided to project that onto Owen because you can't stop me.
> 
> Also I've been making Owen so soft in this. I know this is in a universe where Owen never felt betrayed or anything, but I'm worried about losing the character a bit. All this to say, there is still some darkness in Owen and that may emerge at some point...


	14. Play It Like A Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warning: this chapter (specifically the last scene) made me up the rating of this fic. It's not exactly explicit, but it does get a bit ~spicy~.

Sleep came to him easy that night. He’d exhausted himself, well and truly, and he was dead to the world before Owen had even returned from cleaning his teeth in the bathroom. When he woke, it was already 10am, and Owen was perched on the computer chair reading some fancy novel Curt had never heard of, but he could tell it was fancy by the regency woman and Penguin Classics logo on the cover.

Owen noticed him waking and placed the book face down on his current page on the desk. “Morning.”

“Hi.”

“Well rested?” he asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted. He actually felt great. The neck was a little sore but only as bad as a crick in the neck after a long sleep. “And my neck’s feeling better.”

“That’s great!” Owen said with a smile. “And how is everything else feeling?”

Curt tested out a stretch. Tension eased from his shoulders and his neck only pinched a little. “Honestly, it’s okay,” he said, and it was. Last night he’d felt like there was a breezeblock crushing his chest. Now he could breathe again. “I think maybe I just needed to say it all.”

“I’m proud of you.” Owen said.

“Thanks. But do me a favour? No talk about any of my past trauma for a while?”

Owen mimed spitting in his hand and extended it to Curt. “Deal.”

~~~

**WRESTLING STAR LEFT FIGHTING FOR HIS *~LIFE~***

_RAWR!! XD_

_hi my loyal readers!! Im sure u all noticed that mr biceps himself curt mega didnt turn up to school this morning. My sources tell me he has been terribly injured in his fight with the deadliest man alive (lmao!!!) and maybe he wont b walking again!!! a tragic end 4 this promising athlete. His english buddy didnt show up either n my little birdies tell me a certain blonde nerd wont answer questions. Is there more to this story than meets da eye? Thats wot alphonse is here 2 find out lololol._

_Congratulations 2 dick big n kevin derry who made it official with a nomination 4 cutest couple in this years yearbook!! XD love u ~~gays~~ guys_

~~~

_howdy._

_this is dick._

_I saw alphonse’s post._

_is it true?_

**hey dick. no i just av whiplash.**

**back 2 school on thurs.**

_O gud im glad ur ok partner_

**thanx. hows u?**

_were still not friends curt._

~~~

The knock at the door came at around noon. Curt was stretched out on the couch, tossing M&Ms into the air for Owen to try and catch in his mouth. He was agile as hell. Far too comfortable to move, he shouted for whoever it was to enter. It was probably the mailman. His mom was at Janice’s and nobody would come to the door for him except Barb anyway. Or at least Barb used to.

“Good afternoon, idiots!” Tatiana’s voice called out. She was stood in the doorway, hair tied back save for her swooping fringe and in those boots that could probably kill a man. In one hand she had a pizza box. In the other, a bottle of vodka.

“Barb has a study group and I did not want to eat my lunch with Baron Vonnasi,” she explained. “So I am here to party with the homosexuals.”

Curt’s eyes balked at the full bottle of vodka, although Owen had a wicked glint in his eye and charged off to the kitchen. “Tati, you’ve got to go back after lunch!” If they caught Tatiana drunk at school, what would happen? Would Curt be suspended for not stopping her? Would Barb be expelled?

“Oh please,” Tatiana laughed. She grabbed one of the cushions from under Curt’s feet and sat cross-legged on it on the floor. “I would have to drink five of these bottles to get a buzz. Nobody would know I have been drinking.”

“I found shot glasses!” Owen said triumphantly. He took the spot on the floor by Curt’s head and set up the three tiny glasses in front of him. Curt shuffled himself up so his back rested against the arm rest.

Tatiana pushed the pizza box onto Curt’s lap and cracked open the vodka bottle, beginning to pour. “The game is _Never Have I Ever_. I trust that you know of this game?”

Curt’s stomach turned, even at the sight of a delicious pepperoni and cheese. “I’m not in the mood to be confessing my deepest secrets to you right now.”

“Okay, we agree,” Owen said as he handed Curt one of the shot glasses. “Only fun questions allowed. Silly anecdotes.” He considered for a moment. “And we each get one veto on answering.”

Tatiana nodded sagely. “This is acceptable,” she said, and reached for a slice of pizza. “Also, if you don’t want to tell us you could lie. But you would lose my respect.”

“I’ll start,” Owen said, and he raised his shot glass in the air. “Never have I ever… broken the law.”

All three gulped down the vodka in quick succession. It burned in Curt’s throat and made him cough. Tatiana seemed to drink it as if it was water.

“I’m breaking the law just by playing this game,” Curt said. He looked playfully at Owen. “That was a dumb one.”

Owen shrugged. “We all needed a warm-up drink, dear.”

Tatiana took up the bottle and began pouring again. “Never have I ever…”

~~~

Seven shots later and Curt was _messy_. He giggled at anything, whether it was reaching or the pizza box only to realise it was empty, or at Owen blowing his hair out of his eyes, or even the jingle the washing machine made when the laundry had finished. Owen, on five shots, was starting to get glassy eyed, but generally seemed to be able to hold his focus. Tatiana had drunk for every single question, and yet she still appeared to be as sober as he’d ever seen a person. She’d told him he drank like a girl. When Curt pointed out that Tatiana was a girl, she had answered, “no, I drink like a _woman_.”

“It is my turn!” she said. The bottle was almost empty and Curt hoped they didn’t raid his mom’s liquor because he wasn’t sure how much more his stomach could take. “Never have I ever… been arrested.”

Tatiana threw the shot back the moment the words were out of her mouth. She slammed the shot glass down on the table, a satisfied look on her face, and winked at Curt.

Curt’s mouth was agape. “Okay, spill!”

“I was arrested at a protest in Moscow for women’s rights. They let me go because I was a minor.” She brought her phone out of her pocket, and scrolled through a few pictures until she landed on one. As she handed her phone over, Owen took it and held it for both of them to see, since Curt completely missed her hand. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but eventually he saw Tatiana, placard in one hand, the other chained to a fence, surrounded by armed police, rage in her eyes.

“You are so cool!” Curt gushed. “Isn’t she-” The words were lost on his tongue as he looked at Owen. His shot glass was also empty.

“Wait, what?!”

Owen shrugged, as if the news that he was a _criminal_ was as minor as him being left-handed or preferring Thai food over Chinese. “It was a long time ago, when I first moved in with Aunt Sybil. I was angry and one thing led to another and… I set fire to her car.”

“Are you serious?” Curt spluttered. “You? Arson?” He’d said when he’d first moved in with Aunt Sybil. _When his parents died._

“It was a dark time,” Owen said, his voice a warning. Curt must have been drunk because instead of fearing it, that voice went straight to his groin. “But we said only silly anecdotes.”

“Oh my god, no. You can’t leave me hanging like this,” Curt groaned, stretching on the couch to reach for Owen. Owen shuffled back.

“Veto, Curt. I’m using my veto.”

“Another round!” Tatiana interrupted, collecting the glasses. “Another pour!”

“Fine, I guess I’ll ask a question then,” Curt sulked as he took another shot. “Never have I ever…” He was going to ask it. Owen had used his veto. It was his chance, the question that had been on his mind for weeks. The breath caught in his throat. He was almost too scared to say it, but curiosity got the better of his drink-addled mind. “Never have I ever had sex.”

Curt’s shot was untouched in his hand.

Tatiana drank. Owen drank.

“You… you have?” What was he expecting? He’d mixed up curiosity and hope. He should have lied and drank too. He looked like such a loser. Who was still a virgin in their senior year? Dick Big probably wasn’t any more. Sergio definitely wasn’t. Did Owen have _experience_? Was he _good at it_?

Tatiana slapped her hands to the carpet and pushed herself to her feet. “That is my signal to go back to school,” she said quickly. “I will see myself out.” He’d never seen Tatiana flustered before, but she ran to the door as if she were escaping a burning building.

Curt swung his legs so he was sat up. His back was hunched and he twiddled his thumbs in his lap. “So. You’re not a virgin.”

“No. I’m not,” Owen said.

“Does it bother you that I am?” Curt mumbled.

“What?” Owen knelt before him, placed his hands over Curt’s nervous fingers. “Curt, no it doesn’t. Obviously. I barely even consider it as a thing.”

“Why?”

Owen huffed a laugh. “Because it was with a girl! I’d just turned sixteen and I thought maybe I could have been bisexual. I thought maybe I wanted to be because it would be easier to hide it from Aunt Sybil if I had a girlfriend. So I tried it. I’ve never slept with a guy and that’s the one that matters.”

Curt smiled a little at that. So they were on an even playing field after all. “Who was she?”

“Just a family friend. It was awkward and I hated it. And can I be honest with you?” He tilted his down but flicked his eyes up to look at Curt. That heavy-lidded stare drove him wild.

“Absolutely.”

“I kinda had to picture a guy to get it up,” he said quietly.

Curt broke out into a huge grin. “Owen…”

“Don’t ask it…”

“You used your veto, Owen…” Curt teased.

Owen was actually blushing. “Please…”

“Who did you picture?”

Owen buried his face in his hands. “...Batman.”

“Oh my god!”

“Technically it was Bruce Wayne.”

Curt howled with laughter. Sure, a little of it was because of the alcohol. “You get off to the Caped Crusader! This is literally the best thing I have heard in my life. I love Tatiana for this game.”

~~~

  


“Owen, come here!” Curt called, staring in wonder at his computer screen. Owen’s face was, once again, buried in his phone.

“Hang on, Aunt Sybil’s texting.”

“You have to see this,” Curt said, pointing excitedly at the screen. There were actual tears in his eyes. Had there been too many additives in his pizza, because he was _giddy_. “This guy, he moves away from the mic to breathe!”

Owen leant over him behind the chair, pressed a quick kiss to his hair, and looked at the screen. “Have you really only just discovered _Chocolate Rain_? Love, _What What in the Butt_ is going to blow your mind.”

“What Wha… I am searching for that right now.”

“Curt, wait. No,” Owen said, batting his hands away. “I need to check my email.”

Curt watched as Owen logged into his account, brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“Dear Mr Carvour,” Owen read aloud. “We are pleased to inform you that you were successful at interview stage and would like to give you a conditional offer to read Law at the University of Cambridge.”

“Holy shit!” Curt cried. He grabbed Owen by the back of the neck and dragged him in for a kiss. “Cambridge is the one where all the really smart people go, right?”

“One of them,” Owen said. Instinctively, he rested a thumb on his own lip. “It’s my back-up choice, anyway.”

“Cambridge… is your back-up college,” Curt said slowly. “That’s crazy! Where’s your first?”

Owen sat on the spare bed with a huff. He didn’t look as excited as Curt felt for him. “Aunt Sybil wants me to go to St. Andrew’s. Most of the family went there.”

“You don’t want to?” Curt asked.

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Curt turned in his chair, hugging the back rest to prevent him straining his neck too much. “Owen, where do you want to go?”

“Edinburgh,” Owen admitted. “Studying Literature.”

“So? Why don’t you go there?” He was confused. Owen could just change his major, surely. Or minor in Literature. Why was it such a big deal. “Who cares about Aunt Sybil?”

“It’s too late anyway,” Owen said. “I applied for Law courses and Edinburgh wasn’t even on my list.”

“You can’t change your application?”

“It doesn’t work like that. We only get five choices and I’ve used them,” Owen explained. “And we can’t change the subject unless we reject all of our offers and reapply. I’ve already gone past the UCAS deadline.”

“I don’t understand any of the words you just said,” Curt said. “But it’s your life, not Aunt Sybil’s.”

“It’s not going to happen, Curt,” Owen said, shaking his head. “I made a deal.”

“Yeah, I know Aunt Sybil has your inheritance.” He turned back to the screen. He’d left Chocolate Rain playing quietly through the whole conversation but somehow it felt inappropriate now. He exited out of the browser and sat by Owen’s side on the bed. “But surely it’s illegal for her to blackmail you for this?”

“It’s more than that,” Owen said. He took Curt’s hand. “I promised her… I said I’d definitely put St. Andrew’s as my first choice if she agreed to send me some money straight away from my trust.”

“What for?” Curt asked.

“Your hospital bills,” Owen admitted.

  


~~~

It took an hour of Curt ranting and lecturing Owen about how _that’s your money and you’re not spending it on my medical care, this is unacceptable but also you are the nicest person ever but still you need to be responsible with your finances_ before Owen gave up and went for a shower. A private room. An MRI. His bills had to be in the tens of thousands! How rich exactly was Owen?

_What does that say about how much he cares about me?_

He picked up his phone in the search for a distraction while Owen showered. That was another thing. Owen had a _Razr_. He was still stuck with his mom’s old Nokia that didn’t even display pictures. But hey, at least he had Snake. His cell rang before he could open up the game. It was another withheld number. Curt worried his lip. It could have been the prison again, but this late at night? Unless something was wrong, but then they would have called his mother. Did the prison even have his number?

“Hello?” he answered warily.

 _“Curt?”_ That voice. He knew it better than his own. It was a voice dogs could hear.

“Barb!” Anxiety and relief mixed in his belly like a smoothie. “Why are you calling on a withheld number?”

_“Just in case I chickened out before you answered. How are you? Do you feel better?”_

“I’m good, Barb,” he said. He was smiling. She sounded… okay. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

_“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that.”_

“No, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You didn’t deserve to find out that way.”

_“So you’re…”_

“Yeah.”

_“Okay, and Owen’s your…”_

“Boyfriend.”

Barb tutted down the line. _“That’s a little irresponsible, Curt. He leaves in a month.”_

“You don’t need to remind me,” he groaned. That was it, they were back in their old rhythm, Barb lecturing Curt and Curt ignoring all of her advice.

 _“Sorry, I just-”_ She sighed. _“I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”_

“I love you too, Barb,” he said. Owen had just come back in the room, in a _towel_ no less, but he couldn’t let himself get distracted. Not yet. “I’m sorry it’s not in the way you wanted.”

_“I’ll get over it. Maybe now I’ll accept that there’s no chance and actually put myself out there.”_

“You’ll find a guy that’s perfect for you and he’ll be lucky. Or girl. I don’t want to presume. Hey, Tati’s pretty hot.”

_“Curt, this friendship group needs a token straight, don’t you think?”_

“I’m just saying,” Curt laughed. “If you want to _experiment_ …”

_“I am going. I’m glad you’re better.”_

“Love you, Barb.”

_“Love you too, Curt.”_

~~~

Sleep didn’t come, once again. The vodka had had hours to release the fuzziness in his brain and now the neurons were firing and the thoughts wouldn’t kindly shut the fuck up. Owen noticed it too. He’d shared the bed again, but tried his best to lie flat against the wall so that Curt would take up most of the mattress space. With every shift of Curt’s movement, Owen woke, eyes half-lidded and hair mussed, before his face fell back into the pillow.

At 3:20am, Curt just had to accept that insomnia had made him its bitch.

“Owen?” he whispered into the night. He wasn’t expecting a reply, and frankly, he felt guilty when he received one.

“Hmm?”

“Did I wake you?” Curt asked.

“You did,” Owen mumbled, face half in the pillow. “Many times.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, flipping on his back so they both stared up at the ceiling. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Curt said. “Just can’t sleep.”

“Something on your mind?”

“Kinda.”

Curt carefully rolled onto his side, wincing as the bed frame creaked loudly in the silent house. With trepidation, he slid a hand under Owen’s t-shirt.

“Curt…” Owen whispered.

“You can say no if you want to,” Curt said, tracing lazy circles over Owen’s chest with his finger, “but I’m starting to think kissing you isn’t enough.”

Owen’s eyes were still heavy with sleep. He rubbed at one of them with the heel of his hand. “Is this because I told you I’d had sex.”

“Maybe it got me thinking about it,” Curt admitted. “But no. I want this.”

“You want what?”

“Not… not sex,” Curt stammered. The darkness was hiding his blush. “That’s too… I’m not there yet. But I want more than what we have.”

Owen closed his eyes. He was silent for a long moment. He swallowed thickly, and Curt could see the bob of his Adam’s apple. He wanted to kiss it. “Love,” Owen said eventually, “I’ll take your lead.”

“Okay, but tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Owen nodded. “I promise.”

Curt kissed his lips, and his hand fisted in Owen’s shirt. He pushed it up to expose Owen’s chest and slight tummy. His eyes travelled up Owen’s body, first to his navel, then his chest, his lips, his eyes. Owen’s hand slid over his neck and down his back. Curt dipped his head low, and pressed a wet kiss to the centre of Owen’s chest. He felt Owen tremble beneath him. Curt’s skin had never felt more sensitive or alive than under Owen’s fingers. Curt kissed across Owen’s chest to over his heart, and experimentally he flicked his tongue out at Owen’s raised nipple. Owen’s hand fisted in Curt’s hair as he fisted out a breath. Curt crawled to straddle Owen, grinding down as his mouth worked at the nipple.

He sat back, running his hands down Owen’s chest as he moved, and took in the sight before him. Curt bit his lip, then wrapped his arms around his own waist, gripped the hem of his own shirt, and pulled it over his head. He dipped low again, his hot breath puffing against Owen’s tummy, and Owen groaned. Curt continued to kiss a path down Owen’s abdomen until his neck wouldn’t allow him to bend further. Curt shuffled down Owen’s body, the loss of friction where Owen had bucked against him a torturous sensation. Curt lay on his belly between Owen’s legs, kissing once more at the soft flesh by his belly button.

And then he was at Owen’s waistband. His fingers curled around it. He paused. Owen was hard. So was Curt. This was what he wanted. _Wasn’t it?_

“Curt…” Owen groaned. His hips were circling slowly, pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants.

_You want this, Curt. Do it. Don’t be a pussy._

Owen had noticed his hesitation, understood it as something more than a tease. He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Are you okay?”

“I...err…” His brain was mush. All he could focus on was the distinct shape right in his eyeline.

“We can stop,” Owen said.

Curt’s forehead fell against Owen’s stomach. “I want this,” he hissed. “I swear I want this.”

“Me too,” Owen said, his hands back in Curt’s hair. “So much. But it’s not the right time.”

“I’m sorry,” Curt muttered.

“Come here,” Owen said softly. After a few deep breaths, Curt crawled up his body to lay beside him, their foreheads pressed together. Owen kissed him slowly, deeply. It was messy, all tongues and lip biting and really, it should have been terrible. But it was perfect. Owen’s mouth travelled to his jaw. “We could try something else,” he said to the skin there.

“Do you have an idea?” Curt asked.

“I do.” A hand was skirting down Curt’s body. “Remember, if you want to stop…”

Curt nodded, and Owen’s hand slipped below his waistband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't know how far I want to go with this. I tried to keep things relatively in the air here and chose to end it where I did because I didn't think it should be TOO explicit, but I don't know.
> 
> I MAY be convinced to post the whole final scene as a separate fic. We'll see.
> 
> Also, CONSENT RIGHTS.


	15. Skeletons Come to Life in My Closet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for some homophobic language. I promise, we're almost out of angstville and into fluffy goodness.

People often told Curt Mega that he wasn’t _normal_. It wasn’t normal for kids to have therapy twice a week in second grade. It wasn’t normal for a jock to be so friendless. It wasn’t normal to have a cell phone from the late 90s in 2007. What was _normal_ , anyway? In two months, the parameters of _normal_ for him were constantly in flux. It had become normal to wake up in the same bed as Owen. It had become normal to kiss Owen. It had become normal to talk to Tatiana and Barb about kissing Owen.

Over his recovery period, it had become normal to wake up shirtless with Owen. It had become normal to touch him, to be touched by him. It had become normal for him to have some sort of sex life. Yeah, they hadn’t had _sex_ , but the trajectory was set. If virgins always survived the horror movie, Curt would get as injured as it was possible to get without actually dying. Normal was relative.

Normal was about to shift once again.

His first day back at school after his injury started much like any other. He and Owen waited on the curb for Barb’s car to pull up. Tatiana, as had become tradition, held a tray of coffees for them. Curt and Owen clambered in the back of Barb’s Mini, but the first change was that they could now sit closer, could hold each other’s hands between them on the seat. Barb didn’t seem to mind that, but Curt resisted any further PDAs. He was still sensitive of Barb’s feelings after all. He could be a good friend.

Besides, his mind was focused on what he was about to do. He hadn’t told anyone about his plan except for Owen. Not even Tatiana knew what was in store. His knee bounced nervously on the seat and he sat in silence as Barb chattered about the gossip of the last few days. Dick and Kevin had somehow become the golden couple of the school, rivalled only by Sergio and the exchange student Maria. Gabriella’s status was quickly dropping as Maria’s rose. Baron Vonnasi had tried to come on to Tatiana over lunch but choked on a bite of cheeseburger as he spoke. Alphonse had been given two weeks of detention for spreading the rumour that Curt was unresponsive in a coma, even though he’d gone unpunished for outing Kevin. Their school certainly knew their priorities.

The girls split as soon as they pulled up in the parking lot. Baron was approaching them again, so their getaway was swift, even leaving behind their coffees in the tray on the passenger seat. That left just Curt and Owen standing by the car, which was exactly what Curt needed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Owen asked. Concern was etched on his face. Strands of his hair had fallen in his face - Curt had told him he looked hot with his hair mussed up a little - and he was chewing on his lip.

Curt nodded. “Yeah,” he said, though his stomach was in knots. “If I don’t do this now, I never will. You’re still okay with it?”

“Of course, love,” Owen said. “But I’m not the one who has to keep living here.”

“Exactly,” Curt said. “I can’t exactly do this after you leave.”

Owen shifted his backpack up on his shoulder. He glanced around the parking lot. It was pretty deserted, but not too far away, the school entrance was swimming in students talking, joking, killing time before the bell. He held out a hand. “Ready?”

Curt took the proffered hand, laced their fingers together. He took a deep breath. “Ready.”

It was the longest, most terrifying walk of Curt Mega’s life. His palms were sweaty and his knees weak. To distract himself from his overwhelming nerves, he joked in his head _knees weak, arms are heavy, there’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti_. He felt like he was going to bring up his mom’s spaghetti right now, he felt so queasy. At the end of the car park, Owen paused, checking silently if Curt wanted to continue. He nodded again, as they made their way hand in hand through the crowds and to Curt’s locker.

“I don’t believe it,” Curt hissed when they were in the hall, releasing Owen’s hand and slamming it against his locker.

“Curt…”

“This is the biggest moment of my life and nobody noticed?” It was true. They must have passed a hundred students on their way in. Not one of them had given him a single glance. _Some grand coming out gesture, Mega._

“Maybe they noticed and didn’t care?” Owen suggested. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Curt shook his head furiously. “No, no if Kevin goddamn Derry became the talk of the school for liking dudes, there’s no way I could just fly under the radar.”

“Maybe it’s just a sign that now is not the right time,” Owen said.

“I can’t psyche myself up for this again, Owen,” Curt insisted. “It’s happening today.” He was gripped by a sudden idea. He must have been slightly delirious with love or his remaining pain medication or perhaps a combination of the two, because this idea was _stupid_.

“Kiss me,” he said almost wildly, already grabbing for Owen’s shirt. “Right here, let’s make out. I want tongues and everything.”

“Are you insane?” Owen cried, trying to calm Curt’s hands.

“They can’t miss it!” Adrenaline was controlling his limbs, his words, his mind. He’d settled on this solution and there was no time for hesitation or regret. “You could even grind on me a little; that’d get their attention.”

“Curt, no!” Owen insisted, in a tone one might use with a child. Or a puppy.

“Owen, I have to do this.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But your idea, well...it’s tacky.”

“You’re right,” Curt conceded. His temporary madness was beginning to subside. “But do you have a better idea?”

“I do,” Owen said with a smile, and cupped Curt’s cheek. He waited for Curt to nod his consent, then leaned in slowly for a kiss. It was light, closed mouthed, chaste, but it lingered. Not the tasteless erotic display Curt had been begging for, but it felt even more intimate. It wasn’t just a coming out kiss, it was a declaration. Not only was Curt Mega a big gay, he was head over heels in love.

He heard the hall fall silent. Behind his lidded eyes he saw the flash of light that indicated a camera. His job was done. No going back.

The new normal.

~~~

_**TRAGIC ACCIDENT TURNS WRESTLING STAR GAY?!?!?!?!?!** _

_In the most ~random~ news ive ever shared, tragic wrestling paraplegic curt mega has made a miraculous recovery to full health...but he’s GAY NOW?! LOLOLOL WTF IS HAPPENING LMAO_

_my sources, basically everyone in the school XD said they saw curt standin n walkin n OF COURSE thats gud news but he was also making out with xchange student owen carvour!!!! Is this a power move to steal attention away from kevin derry? Girls on the ground say the kiss was hawt because boys kissing is cute but this informant is worried theres something in the water supply in the gym showers makin all these wrestlers gay. Who next, sergio santos?!?!_

_Nice 2 see u not be dead curt XD but what dus his nerd hanger-on think about him likin the dinkie over the diggle ROFL!!!_

~~~

“How is this allowed to continue?” Tatiana asked as Barb finished reading Alphonse’s latest post. They’d chosen to camp out by the computers in the library over lunch. Everyone had stared at Curt and Owen through all their morning classes, but nobody had _said_ anything. On Tatiana’s orders, they needed to step away from the crowds for a little while until they’d assessed the reaction.

Barb gritted her teeth. “This is cyberbullying.”

“It’s fine,” Curt said.

“How is it fine?” Barb snapped, trying and struggling to keep her voice quiet as the librarian glanced over at them. “He’s mocking you!”

“He didn’t call me disgusting, or a slur, and he didn’t out me,” Curt said. “This is better than I expected!”

“Nobody pays attention to this loser anyway,” Owen said, sitting so his shoulder was touching Curt’s but no closer. Curt wanted to disappear somewhere with him. Not because he was scared, or ashamed. In fact, he genuinely felt good. He’d told people, and he hadn’t died. Barb was still his best friend. Nothing bad had happened, yet, and the sky wasn’t crumbling. Very quickly, things were becoming _normal_. And he wanted to take Owen, find a secluded spot, and _celebrate_.

“His stupid little blog did not hurt Kevin,” Tatiana pointed out.

“I just want you to be okay,” Barb said quietly. Curt smiled softly at her.

“I am, Barb.”

~~~

The staring continued. Even Miss Houston stared. Curt tried to distract himself as much as possible. After all, he’d missed three days of school and it wasn’t exactly easy for him to get caught up. But he noticed Owen shift uncomfortably at Sergio’s gaze, or Gabriella whispering, Maria’s look of concern and Barb’s nervous twitching.

 _Don’t regret it_ , he told himself. _You wanted this. Owen said he did too._

As he left his last class of the day, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

**Howdy. Proud of u, partner.**

Coach Susan had asked to speak to him at the end of the day, probably to find out whether she was going to be sued for endangering his life. He’d ushered the girls away, but not without a tight, breath-stealing hug from Barb, and walked over to the gym with Owen. People still stared as they passed.

“They’ll get bored soon enough,” Owen muttered under his breath.

“I hope so,” Curt said.

Coach Susan wasn’t in the boys changing room when they entered. The whole wrestling team was. They all stared silently at Curt as he entered, just as they had with Kevin before. Kevin and Dick were there too, in a back corner. Dick was actually smiling at him, and Kevin at least not looking like he would stab Curt at any moment, but the rest of their expressions were unreadable. Well, Feurgin’s expression was always unreadable, but on the others in the usually loud space, it was unnerving.

Curt moved, Owen following, so an unoccupied space in the back corner and sat on the bench. Owen was worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Curt fiddled with the zip on his jacket. He could hear the drip of the showers, the breath of the others in the room. The silence was deafening.

It was Sergio who spoke first.

“So, when can you wrestle again, Mega?”

Curt shrugged. “I don’t know. I see my doctor again next week.”

“It’d be good to have you back, my man,” Sergio said.

“Yeah, great,” someone scoffed. His name was Jason, one of the sophomores who had recently joined the team and was known for catcalling the cheerleaders at football games. A couple of the other sophomores he sat with laughed under their breath.

The air hung heavy in the room. Curt glanced at Owen, and then to Kevin and Dick. Kevin was glaring at Jason with murderous intent.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kevin spat. Dick muttered for him to calm down.

Jason smirked. “Just because you and Mega want to be fags, doesn’t mean I have to accept it.”

“What did you say, you little bitch?” Kevin snarled. Dick was physically restraining him on the bench. Jason’s friends laughed. Fuck. Barb was right to be afraid.

“I don’t want to wrestle with someone who’s gonna pop a boner from touching me,” Jason said.

Kevin broke free of Dick’s grip, but before he could cross the room, Sergio was up in Jason’s face, Feurgin uselessly but loyally close behind him.

“My man, you need to shut the hell up,” Sergio warned. “This team is a family, and nothing is more important than family.” He jabbed a pointed finger at Jason’s chest. “Curt and Kevin are our brothers and we love them like family. You? You little _gilipollas_? If you don’t accept it, you don’t belong in this family.”

“Yeah!” Feurgin shouted behind him. It was the first time Curt had ever heard him talk.

Jason held his hands up, but he was still smirking. “Fine, fine,” he said, barely containing laughter as Sergio backed away. Jason got up, and made a bee-line for the water fountain. As he passed Curt, he muttered a word under his breath.

“Faggot.”

It happened faster than Curt could process it. One moment, Owen was sat next to him on the bench. The next, Jason was up against a wall, Owen pinning him against it with his arm. His breath came out as a hiss as he glared down at the smaller boy. His free hand was in a fist at his side.

“ _Ay dios mio!_ ” Sergio gasped.

“Want to say that again?” Owen snarled.

“Owen!” Curt yelled.

“If you had a single brain cell, you would know that crossing me is a _very bad idea_ ,” Owen said. “Now, be a gentleman and apologise.”

“Fuck you,” Jason spat.

Owen slammed him against the wall again. “ _Apologise_.”

“Owen, stop!” Curt yelled. He grabbed Owen by the shoulders and pulled him away from Jason, who doubled over to catch his breath. Curt took Owen roughly by the arm and dragged him through the door.

He didn’t stop and didn’t talk until they were outside, far away from any doors or windows. He roughly let Owen go and raked his fingers through his hair.

“What the hell was _that?_ ”

“That boy was an idiot,” Owen said. His face was fixed in a scowl.

“So you attack him? What the _fuck_ , Owen?”

“Love, I was _defending_ you.”

“ _Don’t call m-_ ” Curt yelled. He stopped himself. His body was humming with rage. At Jason, at Alphonse, but fuck, he was mostly angry at Owen. And he’d just come out for him. He didn’t think he could ever be mad at Owen. What was happening? This was definitely _not_ normal. “I’ll see you at home.”

He stormed off. Owen didn’t follow.

~~~

Curt didn’t know how long he sat in the bunker but his ass was now numb from the cold floor and the air was growing cool and dark. He rubbed at his eyes; he was exhausted, he needed sleep, but what would be waiting for him in his bedroom? Would Owen be there or in the spare room? Would Owen be sent home early if Jason made a complaint?

Had they just broken up?

He wasn’t surprised to hear Owen’s voice from the bunker’s entrance, but he wasn’t entirely comforted by it either.

“Can I come in?” Owen asked, a little sheepishly.

Curt shrugged, picked up a brown leaf on the floor, and started tearing at it silently.

Owen stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor, hands in his pockets. “I understand that you’re mad at me.”

“What the fuck, Owen?” Curt tossed the ruined leaf to the ground and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Owen said. “I just… I saw red.”

“You were about to beat the shit out of him, Owen,” Curt said quietly. “That’s not like you.”

“It used to be,” Owen said. And then it clicked. Owen had said he was arrested for arson. Owen had still never really talked about his parents. Owen was _angry_.

Curt stood up. “You need to tell me what happened to your mom and dad.”

“I’d rather not,” Owen said, looking at his feet.

Curt stepped forward slowly. “Have you ever talked to _anyone_ about it?”

“No,” Owen admitted.

“Then tell me. Please.”

Owen looked up. His eyes were red. He rushed forward, enveloped Curt in a hug and buried his face in Curt’s neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Curt rubbed at his back. “It’s okay.”

~~~

The whole sorry story poured out of him then. The story of the car crash wasn’t a particularly remarkable one. Another driver merging lanes on the motorway at the wrong time had killed three people, himself, and Owen's parents. The other driver was at fault, but nobody survived. There was nobody left to blame. Except Owen.

“They were only in the car to come pick me up,” Owen had said. “If I hadn’t have thrown up on that school trip…”

And maybe that’s what had drawn them to each other. They’d survived trauma, which had manifested in Curt as self-loathing and in Owen as deeply buried rage. Their pairing was serendipitous, and that was a word Owen had taught him. The both piled too much blame on themselves and thought the other was an idiot for doing the same.

“What now?” Curt finally asked after a long time of sitting together, crying together, and then some more sitting.

“Not to pile too much onto an already stressful day,” Owen said, “but we have one more hurdle to jump.”

“Mom?”

Owen nodded. “If she doesn’t already know. We have been here a while.”

“Are you feeling up to it?” Curt asked.

Owen laughed. “Makes a change you being my emotional support, doesn’t it?”

“Hey,” Curt chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “I’m not that much of a mess.”

“We’re both a mess,” Owen conceded. “That’s why we work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be sweet and cute I promise.
> 
> Also, Sergio is an angel.


	16. Blind Before I Met You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised fluff. I deliver fluff. And look, we're back to rapid updates.
> 
> Also do remember that this fic is now rated mature.

It was past eleven when they finally reached Curt’s apartment. He slid his key into the lock quietly, hoping his mom had already gone to bed and he could put off the conversation at least until the next morning.

As Curt opened the door, he very quickly realised that wasn’t going to happen.

“Curtis!” Mrs Mega cried, gathering him up in a tremendous bear hug. “Oh _honey.”_

“Oh my god,” Owen gasped quietly behind him. As Curt escaped his mother’s vice-like grip, he discovered why. An arts and crafts explosion had swallowed up his apartment. In the doorway hung a hastily stitched rainbow flag, with bunting stretched across the ceiling proclaiming over and over “C & O”. A vase of origami tulips sat on the coffee table, and all over the floor, ribbons of torn fabric, cotton spindles, crafting glue, _glitter…_

“Oh my god,” Curt echoed.

Mrs Mega took both of their hands in hers and dragged them through to the kitchen. There was a cake. A cake in the shape of a heart, with rainbow icing.

“Oh honey, I’m so happy for you,” Mrs Mega said, taking Curt’s face in her hands and planting a sickening smooch on his lips. Curt tried to bat her away but Mrs Mega started to pinch his cheeks. “I can’t believe my own son has been holding out on me this long.”

“Mom, I…”

“And you picked such a handsome one, too,” she said, whipping around to try to grab at Owen’s cheeks. He was slightly too tall for her, so she settled for squeezing Owen’s shoulders. “And so well mannered. No wonder my Curtis hasn’t been getting into trouble recently with a good boy like you on his arm.”

“Th-thank you?” Owen stammered in surprise.

“So sit down,” she fussed, pushing Owen into the chair. She picked up the knife and began carving into the cake. “Tell me everything. Was it love at first sight? Who made the first move? When’s the wedding?” 

“ _Moooom!_ ” Curt moaned.

“Oh calm down, Curtis, I’m joking!” Mrs Mega laughed, handing him a slice. “Well, only about the wedding.”

Curt shot an exasperated look at Owen, who only gestured his hand in response, as if to say _you’re taking this one._

“Mom, would you just sit down?”

“Okay, okay!” she said, and took her own seat. “Now, spill.”

Curt burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it, his mom’s stupid grin was so wide on her tiny face, she was drumming her nails excitedly on the kitchen table, and she had glitter glue smeared across her forehead. This was the most intense mood whiplash he’d ever experienced.

“What? What did I say?” Mrs Mega asked. “Is 'spill' some kind of gay slang term I don’t know about?”

That only made Curt howl louder. Owen was chuckling too.

“I think he just wasn’t expecting this reaction,” Owen answered her, because Curt couldn’t. A forkful of cake hovered in his hand.

“Why wouldn’t I be excited?” she said. “I’ve been wanting my Curtis to bring someone home for years. I just didn’t expect him to bring home a date to live here!”

“I think it’s the fact that I have a penis,” Owen said. Oh god, Curt was losing his mind. This was a dream. Had he eaten cheese? This felt like a cheese dream.

“Oh I knew he liked boys for years,” Mrs Mega said. That stopped Curt laughing abruptly.

“You _did_?”

“All those posters on your bedroom wall, Curtis,” Mrs Mega explained with a smile. “Shirtless, oiled wrestlers, that pretty boy from The Panicked Disco…”

“ _Panic! at the Disco…_ ” Curt muttered.

“Whatever they're called,” Mrs Mega brushed off the mistake. “No pictures of girls on your walls except for a photo of you and Barb? Curtis, it wasn’t hard to guess.”

“Then why did you keep talking about me bringing girls home all the time?” Curt cried, exasperated.

Mrs Mega shrugged. “I kept waiting for you to correct me.”

Owen was shovelling cake into his mouth, probably to stop himself from laughing. Mrs Mega was practically bouncing in her chair in excitement. He felt like he’d been robbed of his great, emotional, heart-wrenching coming out moment. He wanted tears. He wanted doors slamming. He needed to be justified in having put this off for so long.

“Curtis, I love you,” Mrs Mega said, resting a hand on hers. “Unconditionally.”

Maybe this was better after all. “Thanks, mom.”

“So...I’m waiting for the story!”

~~~

The whole story turned out to be the edited highlights. His mom didn’t need to know about the Dick Big fiasco, about Alphonse’s MySpace post or Owen’s bust up with Jason. As far as she was concerned, it was a meet cute like any other. Owen skilfully steered the conversation away every time Mrs Mega tried to bring up sex, either by serving more cake - Curt thought they’d eaten a year’s worth of sugar that night - or mentioning the support of Sergio and their other friends, or pointing out the time. It was 1am. It was a school night.

Mrs Mega didn’t seem to care.

“Owen, sweetie,” she said as she washed the dishes, “will you be going to college here, then? Ooh, maybe you boys could be roommates!”

“No, mom,” Curt said quietly.

“Why not? You already share, which I am _fine_ with,” she babbled on. “You’re adults, push the two beds together if you want. I think it makes sense!”

“Mom, Owen’s not staying.”

Mrs Mega turned around, soap suds dripping from her hands. “What?” 

“He’s going to St. Andrew's,” Curt said, a little bitterly. Not that Owen was leaving America; they’d known that all along, but Owen’s outburst earlier that day had made him even more resentful towards Aunt Sybil. Was it her fault Owen had never talked about his parents? Of course it was. He bet the bitch didn't believe in mental health. When her own niece died, she probably screamed into a pillow for fifteen seconds then locked it up and moved on.

“It’s in Scotland,” Owen added.

“But…” her face had fallen. “What about you two?”

“I don’t know, mom.” 

“Curtis, I can’t afford to send you to school in Scotland!”

Curt sighed with exasperation. He avoided looking at Owen. This was a conversation he knew was coming. He just hoped he’d have another couple of weeks to prepare. “I’m not asking you to.”

“We always knew I’d have to leave,” Owen added.

Mrs Mega picked up the tea towel and dried her hands. This was one of her tactics when she was getting anxious; Curt recognised it immediately. The feel of certain fabrics calmed her down, and she was drying her hands far longer than she needed to. When she spoke, her voice was small.

“But aren’t you in love?”

~~~

_Aren’t you in love?_

For Curt, the answer was simple. Of course he was. He’d been in love almost immediately. It made him heartsick and his head swim. He felt touch starved when Owen wasn’t around. Owen’s kiss gave him more life than oxygen. Of course he was in love.

Was Owen? He’d always been the more sensible one, the one more in control of his emotions - well, _some_ of the time. He knew the score better than Curt’s muddled brain. Falling in love when they had an expiration date was a stupid, dangerous, and reckless idea. It was a waste of time to fall in love when that love couldn’t last. No, Owen wouldn’t have let himself fall in love.

Which was why it came as a total surprise when Owen shook Curt awake at four am, placed a finger over his lips to silence Curt, and stared deep into his eyes in the pale moonlight.

“Hey,” he said, with a little smile. “I love you.”

Curt blinked up at him dumbly. Owen was still smiling, but his eyes searched Curt’s face for a response. Curt blinked again. _Say something!_ his mind shouted at him. _Anything! Fucking hell, Mega, this is the longest anyone has ever gone without talking. You’re making this so awkward. Just speak!_

“...huh?”

Owen huffed out a laugh, moving his finger from Curt’s lips. “How romantic.” He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

 _Curt Mega, you are so stupid._ Curt pushed himself up on one elbow and slapped Owen’s chest. Owen pretended not to react but Curt could see the pull of his lips as he tried not to smile.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Curt whispered.

“Huh?” Owen said mockingly.

“Oh you smug little bastard,” Curt laughed. “You just woke me up, what were you expecting me to say?”

Owen kept his eyes closed, angling his head away from Curt. “I thought you could at least speak English, dear.”

“That’s how you want to play?” Curt said. He hooked a leg over Owen’s waist and pulled himself over to straddle him. He grabbed Owen’s wrists and pinned them against the pillow. “Look at me, Carvour.”

Owen opened his eyes, full of amusement and challenge. “Did you want something?”

“I love you,” Curt said, and dove in for a kiss. It was lingering, and Curt had vivid recollections of every kiss they'd shared. This, he was sure, was the best kiss of his life and yet the others were also perfect. Owen was _perfect_ , and Curt wasn't about to waste another second of their time together. He murmured "I love you" again against Owen's lips, and god, did it sound good saying it out loud.

It sounded better when Owen said it again, flipping Curt onto his back and kissing across his chest. He paused after every press of his lips to repeat it. It was as if he was trying to fit all of the "I love you"s Curt had wanted to say for weeks into one night.

"Owen," Curt gasped. He felt lightheaded; the blood was rapidly rushing to his groin. "I need..."

Owen looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Are you ready to try something new, my love?"

"Oh _fuck_ , yes," Curt moaned, and Owen's head disappeared beneath the blanket.

~~~

The morning brought with it kisses, _I-love-yous_ , and sad stares from Mrs Mega. It made Curt dizzy. He would tingle whenever Owen said that word, and not just the way he said love to everybody, but then his stomach flopped when he considered the consequences of it. This wasn’t just a fling anymore. Owen's mouth had been on him last night. Like _on him_. And if they hadn't been so exhausted afterwards Curt would have reciprocated. And he would have loved it. This was serious, which meant the end would be messy. He couldn’t help but feel he’d made a terrible mistake.

School, surprisingly, was a tame affair. News of Owen’s tussle with Jason somehow hadn’t reached Alphonse, and he had to believe that was Sergio’s doing, somehow getting the whole wrestling team to keep quiet about what he’d witnessed. Curt needed to buy Sergio his favourite pastry in thanks. People still stared at him in the halls, but he found with Owen’s hand in his, Tatiana and Barb linking them at either side, it didn’t matter.

Dick Big had approached them at Barb’s locker, which was only a few down from his own. His stetson cast a shadow over his face and he was growing in some stubble. In the past, Curt thought his cowboy get-up was ridiculous, but since he'd seen what was under it, he thought Dick looked _rugged_. Maybe he should buy Owen a stetson. “Good morning, fine ladies and gentlemen,” he said, dipping his hat.

“Hi Dick,” Curt said sheepishly.

“Curt, Tatiana, I owe you my most humble apologies,” Dick said. “It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable when expressing my interest, ma’am.”

“It is fine,” Tatiana said with a wave of her hand.

“And Curt,” Dick paused, as if planning his words carefully. “I still believe you acted dishonourably towards me, but my eyes have been opened to the toxic masculinity of the jocks. I understand why you were so darn repressed.”

“Thanks, Dick,” Curt said.

“Maybe one day we can be friends again?” Dick suggested. He proffered his hand for Curt to shake. “You know Kevin only hates you for being a better wrestler than him. While you’re out of action, he might warm to you.”

Curt took the offered hand and shook it. “Good to know.”

“I hope you two can be happy,” Dick said, “despite the circumstances.”

Barb asked what circumstance, but Dick was already making his way down the hall. Tatiana’s look was knowing; she understood. She had to prepare to say goodbye too.

 _Only two weeks_.

~~~

When Miss Houston held him behind after class, he knew something was up. Had Alphonse finally been punished? Had Jason done something? Was he failing again? He sat nervously at his desk, running a finger over a ridge in the wood as she puffed smoke out of the classroom window.

“I’m impressed, Mega,” she said. It seemed to be the week for people taking by surprise.

“Thank you, I guess?”

“Your grades are up, and your Thatcher report was genuinely impressive,” Miss Houston said, still watching the smoke tendrils escape. “These past few months have been the most engaged I’ve ever seen you.”

“I’m trying to improve,” Curt said.

“Carvour has been a good influence on you,” she continued. She flicked the cigarette butt out of the window and walked over to perch on the desk directly in front of Curt’s. “That’s why I’m worried.”

“I promise it’s all my own work,” Curt insisted. Oh fuck, the last thing his mom needed after his accident and his coming out would be to deal with cheating accusations.

“Not that, you fucking dweeb,” Miss Houston said. “Do you know how dumb it is to set yourself up for heartbreak in the middle of your senior year?”

It was a lecture he’d envisioned hundreds of times already. He didn’t need to listen to what Miss Houston was saying to get her point. This was doomed. He’d got in too deep and the pain he’d soon feel was his own fault.

But Owen _loved_ him. That had to make things worth it.

~~~

“Watch your step!” Barb laughed. Her hands were shielding Curt’s eyes, and she walked close behind him to guide his path. Slightly behind them, Tatiana was doing the same to Owen.

“Barb, I can hear the trees,” Curt said. “Why don’t you just say we’re going to the bunker?”

“Oh, would you play along?” Barb snapped.

“Yes, love,” Owen laughed, “where’s your sense of adventure?”

Curt trod the familiar path to his sanctuary, listening to that comforting crunch under foot of fallen leaves, spurred on by Barb’s laughter and Tatiana confusing the directions. As they got closer, he heard something else, a faint noise in the air. It grew louder with every step.

It was Shoes by Kelly.

“Barb, what have you done?”

Barb pulled her hands away. His sanctuary, it was no more.

The first person he noticed was Sergio, strutting across the bunker floor with his feet squeezed into what he assumed was Maria’s heels and mouthing along with the music. The ground had been scattered with blankets and cushions, with battery-powered lanterns in each of the corners and up on a couple of the shelves. Someone had brought a generator, through which what he recognised to be Barb’s laptop was playing the music through its tinny but loud speakers.

“We, uhh…” Barb began.

“Barb thinks that you need more friends,” Tatiana said matter-of-factly.

“You know, for when Owen and Tati…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

“Come,” Tatiana said, nudging Curt’s shoulder. “I have brought alcohol.”

~~~

Somebody had suggested karaoke, he couldn’t remember who. It may have been Curt himself; he was five shots down now after all. It wasn’t really karaoke anyway, they just pulled up lyric videos on YouTube and whoever fancied it howled along the lyrics. Currently, Feurgin was dancing his way through Tequila, which only had one word in it and he still couldn’t sing along in time. Curt had found himself settled on a large floor cushion between Owen’s long legs, resting back against Owen’s chest as Owen wrapped an arm around his waist. Beside them, Sergio and Maria mirrored their position. 

“What’s the plan for you two?” Owen asked them.

“Oh, I am coming to college in America!” Maria said, beaming back at her boyfriend.

“Maria’s going to Northwestern,” Sergio said, “so I am going to community college near Northwestern!”

“Good for you,” Curt said, trying to sound enthusiastic. How many miles was it to Scotland anyway? Maybe the flights were cheap? Maybe Owen would tell Aunt Sybil to suck a fat one and take a year out to do Camp America or something. Who was he kidding?

“What will you boys do?” Maria asked.

“Oh look,” Owen said quickly, nudging Curt off him. “Feurgin has finished, which means it’s our turn.”

“What? I-”

“Come along, love,” Owen helped Curt to his feet, pushing him by the waist over to the laptop.

Curt folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want to sing.”

“Would you rather have that conversation again?” Owen asked as he typed in the YouTube search. “Listen, love, I know we have to face this. But can’t we just ignore it a little longer?”

Curt sighed. “Just tell me what I have to sing.”

“I'm sure you know it,” Owen said. “My parents had this at their wedding.”

Barb squealed at everyone in the bunker to be quiet, and Tatiana gestured for both of them to stand in the centre of the room, handing them each a hairbrush to act as their microphones. Curt hated both of them. He felt the eyes of the room on him. Maria was lightly clapping her hands with a beaming grin, Sergio nodding in anticipation. In a far corner, Dick and Kevin perched on a crate, whispering to each other. A couple of the other wrestlers milling by the alcohol set down their drinks; their girlfriends, including Lani, who seemed to have moved on from Kevin very quickly, huddled into their sides.

The music began. It was classic, upbeat, romantic. He recognised it straight away. It was everything that encapsulated them.

Owen brought the hairbrush up to his mouth. “Ain’t no mountain high, ain’t no valley low, ain’t no river wide enough, baby.”

Okay, so he was the woman. “If you need me, call me, no matter where you are, no matter how far.”

As the song progressed, Curt had to admit he was getting into it. Owen danced along to the beat and he sounded great. Curt was transported back to that sick day, dancing in his arms to David Bowie. Sergio had started clapping along. Curt felt like showing off now. He climbed atop another of the crates, pointed at Owen, and beckoned him over as he sang.

“My love is alive, deep down in my heart, although we are miles apart.”

By the final chorus, everyone had joined in. Curt had one of Owen’s arms slung over his shoulder, Barb tucked against his other side. Tatiana danced around them, a vodka bottle in each hand. Sergio, Maria, the wrestlers, Lani and the girls, even Fuergin, formed a circle around them and belted the lyrics, while Kevin and Dick sang along to each other.

Maybe the song was right. If a mountain couldn’t stop them, could an ocean? They did say absence made the heart grow fonder.

 _The world doesn’t work like a song, Mega_ , his rational mind told him.

Maybe he could ignore rationality for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are winding down now, only four chapters left after this one. I wanted to give them something fun, fluffy and light because there be drama in these final chapters. So consider this one a breather.


	17. A Kiss and I Will Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a longer version of this chapter, but I cut a whole section out. I'll explain why in the end notes.
> 
> Warnings for somewhat adult content, although I think and hope it's still appropriate for the rating.

Big’s Diner was quiet for a Saturday. The majority of the customers were people from the community college, nursing their hangovers quietly over milkshakes, eggs and bacon. A family with a small puppy occupied the big booth in the centre window, and the rest of the tables were barren. Dick Big Sr. was the only cook on staff that morning, telling Curt as he entered that Dick Jr. was sick and couldn’t contaminate the food. Curt kept to himself that the copious amount of spirits Dick had gulped down the night before in the bunker probably had something to do with his nausea. It was the same reason the girls hadn’t joined them. Tatiana called in the early hours to explain that she was spending her day holding Barb’s hair back; the noises Barb was making in the background turning Curt’s own stomach.

They occupied a booth in the corner, where the windows overlooked a small grassy area instead of the parking lot. The skies were gloomy, the winter chill only now beginning to give way to spring. Owen would be gone before leaves returned to the trees. 

“I’ve been thinking…” Curt said, stirring his straw in his milkshake.

“That’s a mistake,” Owen joked, and took a bite out of the crispy bacon. Opposite Curt, his hair was still a little sleep-mussed. Curt loved it. He needed to borrow a camera. He needed to document Owen at every angle. But a photograph could never capture the love in Owen's eyes, even now as he took shots at Curt. In just two weeks, that look would be lost to him forever. He was starting to think he couldn't do this. 

“Shut up,” Curt laughed softly, nudging Owen’s knee with his own and doing his best to ignore his oncoming existential crisis. “I’ve been thinking…” he started again, planning his words carefully. “I don’t want to leave school a virgin.”

Owen wiped his mouth on the napkin and leaned back in the booth, picking up his cup of tea for a sip. “Curt, love, being a virgin at college is not the social suicide the films make it out to be.” 

“Says the non-virgin,” Curt muttered with an eye-roll.

“Excuse me,” Owen sat forward again, clanking the teacup down heavily on the saucer. If Curt wasn’t so concerned with what he was saying, he might have joked about how _British_ he looked right now. “I’m only a _straight_ non-virgin. My gay virginity is in tact.”

Curt started swirling his straw again. This wasn’t going as expected. Owen was in a silly mood, which was usually a delight. It had been at the party last night. Was that the first time Curt had ever had a good time at a party? Probably.

But this wasn’t the time for silliness. There was a timer in Curt's head, counting down their numbered days. It felt like a vice. “Will you please not interrupt me? This is hard enough to get out.”

Owen took Curt’s hand from his milkshake; held it across the table. “I’m sorry, love. Continue.”

“Okay,” Curt said. His knee was bouncing under the table. “So I know we’ve done _stuff_ . And it’s amazing. _Oh god is it amazing._ ”

“Well, thank you,” Owen said with a raised eyebrow.

“Shush,” Curt said. He felt his cheeks warming. His gaze flicked to their hands joined on the table. “I want to lose my virginity, and the only person I want to lose it to is you. And you leave in two weeks.”

“Curt,” Owen said quietly. He reached over with his other hand and tilted Curt’s head up with a finger under his chin. “Are you asking me to sleep with you?”

“...Maybe?” _Yes. Please._

Owen sighed. “And are you asking me this because you’re ready for us to take that step or because we have a time limit.”

 _Can’t it be both?_ Curt thought. He was ready. He was so ready. And not doing this before Owen left, that would kill him. Curt had lived through too many regrets; denied himself too many opportunities to be happy. Not this time. “Owen, you know I love you.”

“And I love you," Owen said, but his tone was matter-of-fact, not soft, not loving. There was a _but_ coming and Curt wasn't going to like it. "But are you _ready?”_

 _Yes. God yes. Wait, don't sound desperate, Mega._ “I guess.”

Owen released his hand and sat back. “That’s not good enough, Curt. I don’t care how little time we have. We’re not going there unless you’re sure.”

Stupid brain. Owen didn’t get it. Curt _was_ sure. He was so bad at expressing himself in words. So scared of looking stupid by saying the wrong thing. No wonder he flunked so many classes. He slid out of the booth and into the other side to sit next to Owen, resting a hand on Owen’s thigh. “Owen, I want this. I want _you_.”

“Okay,” Owen nodded. He put a hand over Curt’s. His palm was warm from his teacup and the heat of it rejuvenated Curt on that cold morning. “Let’s go.”

Owen’s about-face took Curt aback. “...What?”

“You. Me. Sex. Now.” With each word, Owen got closer, so that his lips were only inches from Curt’s own. Curt was trembling. His eyes darted around the room, but nobody was watching them. Even if they were, with the look Owen was giving him he still didn't think he'd be able to stop himself.

Curt gulped. “ _Right now?_ ” He was ready, but he was hoping for time to prepare. He hadn’t even showered yet.

“I’ll allow us to get home first,” Owen’s voice was low, travelling straight to Curt’s groin. He wanted, no, _needed_ Owen's lips on his. “But yes. Let’s do this.”

 _No time, Mega. Now’s your chance._ “Umm...okay. I-I guess-”

“See?” Owen said, looking satisfied. “Your hesitation tells me this isn’t right. Curt, I want you so much, okay? But this is a big deal, love. I don’t want to rush into anything we may regret.”

“Owen…” That wasn’t what he meant. Why was it so hard to say _I’m ready to have sex in a few hours?_ Or _can't we do something to make this special?_ Owen had turned back to his eggs. The opportunity had passed. He'd blown it.

“ _No,_ Curt.”

~~~

**so wot do i do**

_nothing. i agree with owen._

**tati! ur supposed 2 b on my side!**

_if u have any doubts u should not do this._

**i dont have any doubts! im ready!**

_have u told owen this?_

**yeah! but he didnt believe me! i was nervous talkin bout it but dat made him think i was unsure. im not. i even did research**

_did u clear ur browser history?_

**ur not helpin**

_maybe u just need 2 prove to owen that u r ready._

**a grand gesture!**

_or a conversation._

**i can plan sumthin special n romantic! thanks tati ur da best!**

_curt i did not mean that_

_never mind. good luck._

~~~

“This is… wow.”

Barb had thankfully left behind the cushions and blankets from the night before, though he’d have to put them all on a boil wash afterwards if things went according to plan. In the delicate lights, the bunker looked, well, cosy. Curt had even swept and mopped the floor so it wasn't gross and unhygienic. Dead leaves and splashed beer were true passion-killers. The wind had picked up outside, but in here they were truly locked away from the world. The world wanted them apart. The world could fuck off. He’d found out from Tatiana how she’d fixed the hatch door lock to make sure nobody else could enter, now his sanctuary was not so secret. Their voices echoed through the space, as did the voice of Marvin Gaye.

“Do you hate it?” Curt asked, scrunching his face up, with his hands in his pockets. “Oh god, I made a mistake.” He rocked on his feet, waiting for Owen's reaction. Why hadn't he just chosen his bed like a normal person?

“No, love,” Owen insisted, looking up at the ceiling. His eyes were pensive and bewildered. “I don’t hate it. It’s just…”

“Is it the music?” Curt asked. His stomach was churning. This was ridiculous. Why did he think this was a good idea? “The music’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yes, but…” He was actually playing Let's Get It On. He was an idiot.

“Oh fuck,” He was panicking but he also really wanted to laugh. At least they’d have a story to tell. A story about how Curt Mega was a try-hard doofus whose whole idea of sex came from teen romcoms. What even were these lights? Why had he dressed up the bunker like the bedroom of a fourteen-year-old girl? “I was just trying to make it special and…”

“Curt, it’s okay,” Owen said, stifling a laugh. 

“It’s not okay!” Curt said, gesturing at the madness surrounding him. “Who in their right mind wants their first time to be in a fucking nuclear bunker decorated with fairy lights?” This could only be worse if he’d scattered rose petals and filled the place with candles, but Owen would have called that too risky.

“It’s unusual, I agree,” Owen said, kicking lightly at a large cushion. He nodded to a wicker shape in the far corner. “Is that a picnic basket?”

“I thought we might get hungry?” Curt said with a shrug. “Oh god, I look like Yogi Bear!”

Owen laughed and tugged Curt close by his jacket. The top two buttons of Owen's shirt were open, and through it Curt could see a light patch of chest hair. Curt placed a hand against it as Owen spoke. “I guess that makes me Boo Boo the Fool.”

“No, _I_ am Boo Boo the Fool.”

“Okay, love, calm down,” Owen smoothed his hands down Curt’s arms. He took another long look around the bunker. “I admit, this is a little… unconventional. But it’s great. Anywhere with you is great.”

Curt worried his lip. “I’m just… I guess I’m nervous. And overcompensating.”

“Curt, I told you I didn’t want to-”

“I know, I know, you want me to be sure,” Curt interrupted. He moved to hold Owen's hips, automatically swaying a little to the music. Now it was Boyz II Men. He was going to cringe about this for the rest of his life. He did his best to ignore it, to focus on the present. Owen, solid and present before him. Waiting for him. Wanting him. “I am, Owen. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Question is,” There was a hint of challenge in his voice, “are you?”

Owen grinned wickedly. “Absolutely.”

Curt felt giddy. Nerves had turned to adrenaline. He felt the earth hum through his feet, into his whole body. Could Owen feel it? He must have been Storm from the X-Men because he felt like he was made of electricity. “So we’re doing this?”

“We are.”

“Great,” Curt grinned. They stopped for a moment, just staring at each other. This was happening. They were doing this. They were supposed to be doing this.

Curt’s face fell. “How do we start?”

Owen howled with laughter. It was a genuine question. Fuck, he’d made it awkward again. Curt blushed and looked at his feet. The laughter died on Owen’s lips. “Oh god, you’re seriously asking. I guess...I guess just like we usually do, let it evolve naturally from there?”

Curt smiled again. That he could do. “So kissing? Yes, kissing is good. Kiss me please so I stop babbling.”

Owen's kiss was like fire, and Curt was ready to be consumed by the flames.

~~~

It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other naked before. It was becoming an increasingly common way to sleep. And making out while naked? Yeah, that was Curt’s favourite activity. There was absolutely no reason why Owen should be convulsing while Curt was kissing his chest.

“Are you laughing?” Curt asked, lifting his head. He rested his chin on Owen's sternum.

Owen threw an arm over his eyes, silently chuckling. “I’m sorry, love. I am. I just…” He took a few calming breaths. “Did you seriously put Barry White on this playlist?” Through Barb’s tinny speaker, Mr White was singing about how he can’t get enough of your love, babe. Curt was officially a cliche.

He pulled Owen’s hand away from his eyes and scowled. “Do you want to have sex or not?”

“Yes, I do. It’s just funny.”

“Look, I’ll just turn off the music.” Curt snapped in embarrassment, throwing off the blanket covering them. He shivered in the sudden cold.

“No, please, don’t go anywhere,” Owen said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back against his chest. “I’m sorry, no more laughing.”

“It’s okay, I need… we need to take a breather.” Curt rolled off Owen, looking up at the fairy lights. The light cast long shadows across the grey ceiling, making patterns and shapes. It was comforting. It was like stargazing, the fairy lights made constellations and the shadows were clouds passing over the night sky. As if they were the only two people in the world and the sky belonged to them.

“Are you okay, love?” Owen had flipped onto his side, tapping his fingers over Curt’s heart.

“Yeah, we just-” The train was pulling into Grand Awkward Central once more. He always ruined moments with talking, but he couldn’t stop himself. “We need to decide who’s going where. _Y’know_.” He hoped Owen got it; that he didn't have to explain it. Explaining his intentions had almost lost him this moment already.

“Oh,” Owen said, his face clouding over with sudden realisation. “Oh yeah. I mean, neither of us have done this before, so we don’t really know what we like.”

“Have you thought about it?” Curt asked.

“All the time,” Owen admitted in a dreamy sort of voice, and wow, _that_ revelation made Curt stir.

“So what do you want?”

Owen thought for a long moment. He kissed Curt’s jaw lightly, a featherlight touch that tickled as much as it soothed. “I want it to be good for you, love.”

Curt closed his eyes, and listened to the sensations in his body. He slowly let the tension in his shoulders release. This was okay. He was okay. “I know what I want.” Truthfully, he’d known this for months. He’d dreamt about it. He’d prepared for it.

He couldn’t say it.

Curt rolled onto his side, and reached for his backpack. Inside were two items he’d desperately hidden from his mother. Curt palmed the small tube in one hand and handed the foil packet to Owen. Owen flipped it over in his hands a few times, as if he was looking for ingredients. Curt recognised it as a stalling tactic. He was thinking what to say. What did you say in this situation? Barry White wasn’t offering any pearls of wisdom.

Owen cupped his cheek. “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

“You could never,” Curt said breathily.

“Even so, tell me.”

~~~

“Are you okay?” Curt had been little spoon for a while now. Well, actually he was just a regular sized spoon. Different sized spoons didn’t fit together as perfectly as he and Owen did. The playlist had thankfully ended, and Owen had been running his fingers up and down Curt’s arm, humming lightly. He didn’t know quite how long they’d lay there after. He’d wanted to break the silence, but no words could describe his feelings in that moment. He knew how pleasure looked on Owen, and that image would sustain him for the rest of his days. When he’d closed his eyes, Owen's lids had been the colour of dawn. Curt wanted to memorise every inch of that face, every thrill Owen’s touch sent through his body. He’d experienced perfection. How was he supposed to let that go? No, those thoughts couldn't spoil this. Nothing existed outside of this bunker. They were two souls outside of time. Nothing mattered except the warmth their bodies shared, the taste of their kiss, the breath that passed between them.

Curt turned in Owen’s arms. Owen’s face was puffy and half-bruised with kisses. His hair was mussed on the pillow, strands falling in his dark eyes. He was beautiful. “You know,” Curt began, his voice barely above a whisper although they were alone. “Everyone always says your first time is not what you expected it to be. People romanticise it to be this incredible, perfect, mindblowing experience. And really it’s-”

“Awkward and sticky?” Owen said.

Curt chuckled. “Yeah, that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Owen, no,” Curt said. His hand was on Owen’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. He longed to be trapped in this moment forever. If the bunker door got stuck, and they could never be freed, he would die here and he would be happy. “I mean yeah, awkward and sticky certainly sums it up. But it’s also still those other things. Before we got together I had this romanticised version of you in my head, and the real thing is even better.” Curt pressed his forehead against Owen’s, tangled their legs together. No matter how close they got it still wouldn't be enough. “This was the same.”

“So I’m not your first time horror story?” Owen asked, his fingers now trailing up Curt’s bare back, running along the length of his spine.

“It was amazing, Owen,” Curt thought back to a word Owen had once used to describe him. It was _sublime_. “And you know what this means?” He said with an excited grin.

“What?” Owen laughed.

“It means our second time will be even better!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the reason why this chapter is shorter is because the original draft was too explicit. I didn't want the rating of this fic to go up, so I chose to remove it.
> 
> When the whole fic is completed, I'm going to post the cut scene as a separate fic and link it to this one as part of a series. So look forward to that, I guess.
> 
> This whole chapter is inspired by this particular scene from the show Please Like Me. If you have not watched that show, YOU MUST. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nro8VYL8OnQ


	18. Pushing on the Pedal til I Break Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet. It's also been the hardest to complete just because of other personal things going on. It's dialogue heavy so sorry about that!

A low winter sun blinded him as Curt blinked open his eyes at the loud, cheerful voice. “Okay, get up!” Owen whipped away the blankets, exposing Curt’s naked body.

“ _Why…_ ” Curt moaned, dragging a pillow over his face.

“I have plans!” Owen said. He grabbed a t-shirt from the pile of clean laundry Mrs Mega had left on his desk and flung it at Curt’s body. Curt dragged it off his chest and dropped it back on the ground.

“So do I,” Curt said groggily. “I plan to be naked in bed with you all weekend.”

Owen knelt on the mattress, wrestling the pillow away from Curt’s face. He pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his lips. “I leave in a week; I want to go on an adventure!”

“I want to go on an adventure in bed,” Curt raised his eyebrows suggestively. Owen laughed, then leaned down to pick up the t-shirt and threw it back on Curt’s chest. Curt groaned and reached out for Owen’s frustratingly fully clothed body. “We’ve had to not be in bed because of school all week already. Don’t take weekend sex away from me too.”

“Sorry, my love,” Owen said, stepping away to rummage in a rucksack. “It’s already planned.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Curt moaned, pulling himself to sit upright. He swung his bare legs over the side of the mattress and raked a hand through his hair. “How long until we have to leave.”

“An hour.”

“Well,” Curt said with a lascivious grin. He padded over to Owen, holding him by the hips. “That gives us 55 minutes to do what _I_ have planned.”

Owen kissed him again. As he pulled away, he sniffed the air. “Curt, you need to shower.”

“We can do my plans in the shower.”

Owen’s grin grew wide and he slipped off his jacket.

~~~

Curt heard Barb whooping before her car had even rounded the corner. She pulled up in her Mini outside the apartment complex, leaning out of the open window. “Who’s ready to partaaaay?” she roared, shaking her head from side to side in excitement.

“Barb, are you having a stroke?” Curt asked, eyebrow raised. Beside him, Owen was biting his lip to contain his laughter.

Tatiana opened the passenger door and stepped out of the car, large sunglasses hiding her eyes and tray of coffees from Big’s Diner in her hand. “She is excited. Frankly I am scared to allow her to drive.”

“I’m _fine_!” Barb insisted. She clapped her hands excitedly. “This is just gonna be so much fun!”

Curt’s gaze flitted between Owen and Tatiana. “Is anyone going to explain to me what’s going on?”

“Road trip!” Barb squealed.

“What?” Curt asked, wincing at the sound of Barb’s voice. He’d forgotten how an excited Barb could cause temporary tinnitus. “Where are we going? I haven’t packed anything.”

Owen hugged Curt from behind, and pressed a light kiss to the shell of his ear. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re only driving a couple of hours away. Of course back home that would get us across the country.”

Tatiana nodded sagely. “It would take eight days to cross my country by train.”

“We get it, Russia’s huge,” Curt said, rolling his eyes. He turned in Owen’s arms and rested his hands on Owen’s chest. “So why are we doing this?” His own plan of spending the weekend enjoying not being a virgin with Owen still seemed more appealing in that moment.

“I told you,” Owen said. “We’re going on an adventure.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if Owen and Tati saw more of America than our shitty town?” Barb added, still leaning half out of the window.

“Okay,” Curt nodded. He grabbed Owen’s hand and they rounded the car, to clamber in behind the passenger seat. “But Owen and I get the back seat.”

“Just keep it PG. I don’t want to get pulled over for you two canoodling.”

~~~

Barb and Tatiana, it transpired, had assembled a whole playlist for their journey, burnt onto four CDs. Tatiana explained that they’d spent the whole night before downloading the perfect road trip songs from Napster, before Barb hushed her, in case the feds were listening. Somehow he didn’t think they were going to get arrested for illegally downloading 1985 by Bowling For Soup, which Barb was enthusiastically singing along to as Tatiana watched on with an amused smile and nodding her head along to the beat.

Curt stared out of the window as the buildings of his town gave way to open road, his hand lying lazily on the car seat with Owen’s covering it. Owen lifted that hand to tap Curt on the shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Sure,” Curt said quietly. “Just thinking.”

“You’re frowning,” Owen said.

“Of course I’m frowning.” He was frowning because he was wasting his last few days with Owen in this car. He was frowning because he knew he’d only have Owen’s kiss, Owen’s body, Owen’s love, for a limited time. He was making memories, but he was pretty certain memories would never be enough.

“Don’t think about next week,” Owen said, cupping his cheek. Either Owen could read minds or Curt’s growing hopelessness was evident on his face. “If you spend the whole day thinking about what’s to come, you won’t enjoy what’s happening now.”

“Listen to Confucius over here,” Barb barked out a laugh.

Owen turned his head to meet Barb’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Barbara, did you just sass me?”

“I did!” Barb said delightedly.

“I am proud,” Tatiana said.

Owen sat back, and pulled Curt over to rest his head on Owen’s shoulder, made only slightly uncomfortable by their seatbelts. Owen entwined their fingers and rested their joined hands in Curt’s lap, as the song switched over to Billy Ocean’s Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car, a smile growing on his face as he heard Owen softly sing along.

~~~

They stopped for gas forty minutes into the drive. Barb wandered the aisles of the gas station grabbing at snacks which were quickly piling up in her small arms, while Tatiana wandered into the back looking for the toilets, and potentially swiping some booze. Curt and Owen had used the short break to stretch their legs. The back seat of Barb’s Mini was far too small for Owen’s height, and yet he sat in it anyway, just to stay close to Curt. They walked around the back of the gas station, where all that overlooked them was a few stray bushes and expanses of barren land. Owen leaned against a stack of tyres and hooked his fingers in Curt’s belt loops, dragging him close between Owen’s legs.

“I want you,” he said lowly.

Curt ran his fingers through Owen’s soft, long hair. “You could have had me if you hadn’t planned this trip.”

Owen groaned. “We could be quick.” He pressed his lips under Curt’s jaw, sucking at the soft skin he found there.

“We don’t have anywhere to clean up,” Curt said, even as he felt the blood rushing to his groin. “I’m not sitting for hours in a car feeling so sticky.”

“ _Curt…_ ” Owen moaned against Curt’s skin. His breath was hot, and it made Curt shiver.

“This is your own fault,” Curt said, pushing Owen away before he gave in. “Where are we actually heading anyway?”

“Okay, please don’t be mad at me,” Owen said cautiously, rubbing at his kiss-bruised lips.

“Owen,” Curt said, hands on his hips. “What have you done?”

“First of all, know that this is your choice,” Owen said, the words tumbling quickly out of him. He was gesturing emphatically with his hands, as if to distract Curt from his words with movement. Oh no, he’d done something bad, hadn’t he? Where the _hell_ were they going? Were they running away to live their lives together away from his mother and Aunt Sybil and Vladimir Putin or whoever it was Tatiana lived with. “If you don’t want to go,” Owen continued, “we don’t have to. We can just drive somewhere else.”

“Owen…”

“I may have…” Owen turned his face away, the words rushing out of him in a single breath, “ _contactedtheprison_.”

If Curt hadn’t already been leaning against the wall, he may have fallen against it. His knees buckled, his breath catching in his throat and his heart thumping. Was this shock, anger, a panic attack, or some awful combination of the three? Owen quickly glanced at him before casting his eyes downward once more. “Are you kidding me?” Curt asked incredulously.

Owen approached him slowly, hands raised defensively in front of him. “Okay you have every right to be angry.”

“I’m… I’m not,” Curt realised as his breath steadied. He wasn’t angry. Anger disappeared at the mere suggestion of fear in Owen’s eyes. He was left with confusion. Yes, he’d told Owen that his dad requested a visit, but he hadn’t thought any more on it since that day. His dad had been as absent in his life as he had always been. “I just don’t understand.”

“Okay,” Owen said, breathing out a sigh of relief. Tentatively, he rested a hand on Curt’s shoulder. “I figured if you could face your dad and reconcile a little, maybe you’d be okay once I left.”

Curt shook his head. The leaps in logic that suggestion had taken, Curt was half convinced he and Owen had temporarily swapped brains. “Those are two very different sources of pain.”

“I know, my brain has decided to stop working,” Owen huffed out a laugh, that quickly died on his lips. “I’m just scared,” he whispered.

Curt raised a hand to Owen’s face, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb. “So am I,” he admitted. Man, he was in too deep. He hated himself, and the intensity of his feelings. He hated that he’d allowed himself to fall so hard. He hated that he didn’t regret a second of it.

“But if you don’t want to see him,” Owen said, dragging Curt out of his thoughts once more, “we just go into the city with the girls. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” Was he some wounded bird? A delicate crystal vase? Even after a week of mindblowing sex, Owen still asked for Curt’s consent at least three times before they did anything, and he was giving Curt that same worried look right now. Curt knew he was on the verge of shattering to pieces; he was an emotional wreck. He just thought and hoped he’d done a better job of hiding it.

“No, I…” Curt began, not quite sure what he was objecting too. That was it, the prison. His father. Somehow facing him didn’t fill him with all-encompassing dread anymore. There were worse things on the horizon for him. _Eight more days_. “I think I’d like to go,” he said. If he could face his dad, surely he could face what came next.

“Are you sure?” Owen asked, once again seeking reassurance.

“I mean, I don’t particularly want him back in my life,” Curt shrugged, a decision and a resolve rising in him. “But I guess I owe him the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to tell him about us,” Curt said decisively. “About being gay.” In truth, he wouldn’t be surprised if his mom had already told his dad, but Curt didn’t really care about what his dad thought of his sexuality. This was a test. If he had the resilience to get through this conversation, surely he could survive an airport goodbye. He hoped.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Owen said. That wasn’t the point, but Curt didn’t want to bring down Owen’s mood further.

“Okay,” he said, plastering a slightly forced smile on his face. “Maybe I want to show you off to him.”

~~~

Barb has _not_ been pleased when she discovered where they were heading. Owen had printed off directions for her without specifying their destination. She had called him irresponsible. Had told him that he hadn’t sat with Curt through those years of pain. Curt had never seen Owen so frightened in her life. It took Curt ten minutes of reassurances that he wanted to do this before she was calm enough to drive. As she gunned the engine, Jon Bon Jovi’s voice ripped through the car declaring _Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame!_ Tatiana quickly skipped through the tracks, past the collected works of Smash Mouth, until they settled on the easy-listening country portion of the playlist. They settled into an uneasy, tense silence, Barb’s steely gaze focused on the horizon.

“I do not want to return to Russia,” Tatiana said finally, her arm hanging lazily out of the window as the breeze passed through her fingers.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Owen said.

“I will always love my country,” Tatiana continued, a wistfulness in her voice. “I just do not love those who run my country.” Nobody needed to ask her what she meant.

“I want to go back home,” Owen said, to Curt’s surprise. He’d been resting his head on Owen’s shoulder, trying to hold off the creeping fatigue. He stirred, and Owen sighed. “I just wish I could bring you all with me.”

“We can still keep in touch, can’t we?” Barb asked, her fight with Owen clearly over. Curt winced at the hope in her voice. He wished life was that simple. He wanted to believe that distance wouldn't change them. He couldn't.

“Of course we can.”

“But it won’t be the same,” Curt said. “Barb, even you and I will be at different colleges, in different states.”

“I guess that is all just part of growing up,” Tatiana said. Silence stretched on in the car, punctuated only by the voice of Carrie Underwood through the stereo.

Just as sleep was about to claim Curt, Owen spoke again. “Curt, I have decided you are an arsehole.”

“What?” He said, lifting his head. He slapped at Owen’s arm. “Why am _I_ the asshole?”

Owen chuckled lightly. “For making me fall in love with a stupid American!”

Barb slammed on the breaks, making Tatiana splutter in shock. “Wait a minute!” she gasped. “You two are in _love_?”

Curt shrugged with nonchalance. “Yeah, Barb. I thought that was obvious.”

“I thought you just liked to make out,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you were in love! Oh god, I’m gonna cry!”

“We need to keep moving, Barb,” Tatiana said.

Barb eased her foot off the brake, and the car slowly began to pick up speed once more. “I take it back. Kiss as much as you want back there!” A wide grin spread across her face. “My Curt’s in _love_ , Tati!”

~~~

As they pulled into the parking lot, the first thing that struck Curt was how _small_ the place was. He remembered his last visit, all those years ago, and the towering grey walls, the imposing steel fences, how each corridor seemed to stretch for an eternity. He’d been so young then. The building before him now, well, it was barely bigger than his school.

“Wow,” Barb said, staring through the windscreen. “I’ve never even seen a prison before.”

“I have,” Tatiana and Owen said in unison.

Barb raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t ask, should I?”

“I do not think so.”

Owen rested his hand on Curt’s knee, giving it a little squeeze. “Okay, ready to go, love?”

Curt’s mouth had been hanging open a little. He shut it and licked at his dry lips. His skin felt itchy. He shouldn’t be this itchy. “What do you mean?”

“Of course I’m coming in with you,” Owen said. “You’re not facing this alone.”

Curt dropped his voice to just above a whisper. The girls both stared out of their respective windows, pretending they weren’t listening, even as Barb’s neck was straining to angle her head closer. Tatiana blew on the glass and traced shapes in the condensation. “You don’t have to,” Curt said.

Owen leant in close to Curt, his breath tickling Curt’s cheek as he spoke. “Curt, it’s my fault you’re here.”

“It’s not your _fault_ ,” Curt corrected him, “it’s your idea.”

“I still want to support you,” Owen said, raising a hand to brush the hair away from Curt’s forehead.

“I should do this alone.”

“Are you sure?” Owen asked. This time, Owen’s overcautious nature comforted him.

“No,” Curt said honestly.

“Shall we leave?”

“No.”

Owen cupped his cheek. “Then we are at an impasse.”

Curt huffed out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know what that word means but I need to rip the band aid off and go inside.” Without prompting, Tatiana stepped out of the Mini, pushing her chair forwards to allow Curt and Owen to clamber out of the vehicle. She got back inside, closing the door and winding up the windows, to Barb’s dismay.

“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” Owen said. “We’ll go inside together. If you then want to do this alone I will wait at the entrance. If you don’t, well, I’ll be by your side however long you want me.”

~~~

“I think I’ve had too much caffeine.” Curt’s fingers rapped on the cheap plastic-covered table. The poorly-made chairs dug into his back. The visitor’s room was emptier than he anticipated. A young mother and her toddler talking quietly to a smiling prisoner, probably only a few years older than Curt, over in the far corner. A few tables away, another prisoner pretending to listen as his mother complained that he wasn’t eating enough. She reminded him of his own mom. Had Owen told her where they were going?

“We got you decaf,” Owen said. “That’s just nerves.” He didn’t dare to steady Curt’s hand in this environment, but their shoulders touched behind the small table, and Owen leaned his weight ever-so-slightly into Curt in a gesture of reassurance. The warmth of Owen comforted him a little, and he curled his hand up into a loose fist.

“I expected a pane of glass and talking through a phone,” Curt said. He meant it to be a joke but he didn’t feel like laughing.

“Unless your dad is Hannibal Lecter, I think we’re safe to sit at a table,” Owen said. “I never actually asked your dad’s name.”

“Lawrence. Just call him Larry.”

“Okay,” Owen said. “Before he arrives, we need a safe word.”

“What kinky shit are you planning to do in front of my dad?” Curt whispered, his eyes falling once more to the toddler. He’d buried his face in his mother’s chest, too timid to face who Curt assumed was his father. Curt could relate.

“Shut up,” Owen said with a wry smile. “I mean, if you feel you can’t handle it, say a word and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Stop with the code words,” Curt rolled his eyes, “we’re not spies. If I want to leave, I’ll just say so.”

An alarm sounded, a single, short, blast of sound, and the cell door opened. Flanked by a correctional officer, a figure in a plain grey sweatshirt and pants entered the visitors’ area. He was a stocky build, like Curt himself, but where Curt had developed muscle, this man carried a little extra weight. His hair was kept short, greying at the temples. It wasn’t at all the hair Curt remembered. Despite the weight he had gained, his face was a little gaunt, like he hadn’t slept in many nights. But he looked clean, and for the most part, healthy.

The man approached their table with a tremendous smile, his arms open and stretched forwards. “Curtis!”

Curt ignored the clear request for a hug, instead holding out his hand for a handshake. “Hi dad,” he said. Mr Mega hesitated, his face falling for a moment until he plastered on a clearly fake smile. He shook his son’s hand and took a seat, regarding Owen with a suspicious look. “Oh, this is my friend Owen.”

“Owen!” Mr Mega cried with forced jocularity. “The boy from England!”

“How do you know about him?” Curt asked, defensive. Even though it had been Curt’s reason for agreeing to come, his dad knowing about Owen, _his_ Owen, felt like a betrayal. He felt the resentment growing in him once more. It made his skin feel itchy again.

“Your mom told me when she called.”

“What exactly did mom tell you?” Had his mom told him that Owen was his boyfriend? When had she spoken to him again? He knew his mom couldn’t keep her mouth shut sometimes, but surely she wouldn’t have...

“Just that you had an exchange student staying with you,” Mr Mega answered. He leaned across the table, as if getting close to Curt would somehow deafen Owen to his words. “Why did you bring him here? You could have come after he’d left.”

“I want him here, dad,” Curt snapped. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“Okay, I won’t question it,” Mr Mega said, sitting back in his chair. He extended a hand once more. “A pleasure to meet you, Owen. I’m Larry.”

“Hello,” Owen said, shaking the hand. Mr Mega released his grip and immediately turned back to Curt, as if Owen weren’t even there. His chest puffed out with pride as that fake smile returned to his face.

“My god, Curtis, you’ve grown so much. You’re a man now.”

“Thanks.”

“I remember the last time I saw you, you were so skinny,” he laughed. “And your hair was so long.”

Curt shrugged. “I grew up.”

“I can see that,” Mr Mega said. A silence stretched between them. Owen shuffled in his seat. “I still have your freshman photo, you know? I use it as a bookmark.”

“That’s nice.”

The smile finally disappeared, and Mr Mega regarded Curt with thin lips and a furrowed brow. “Are you actually going to talk to me, son?”

“What exactly do you want me to say?” Curt asked, though he felt like he was asking himself the question more than his father.

“Whatever you want!” Mr Mega said, slapping his hands down on the table. “Scream at me if you want to; I just want to get to know my son.”

Owen leaned in to Curt’s ear, resting a hand on Curt’s forearm.“Curt, do you want to leave?”

“No,” Curt said, pushing him away. He hoped Owen didn’t take it personally. “No I’m fine.”

“Curtis,” Mr Mega said cautiously. “I know you’re still angry at me. What I did… it’s unforgivable.”

His dad was wrong. The years of anger, of resentment, of hurt, it wasn’t down to that one punch his father threw. Another man’s death wasn’t what had made Curt miserable all those years. It was easier to pretend it was. “What you did was self-defence, dad. I’m not angry at you for what happened to that guy.”

“You’re… you’re not?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Curt said honestly. He’d spent so long hating his dad, convincing himself that he should. That Curt deserved to live with this rotting seed of self-loathing buried deep in his chest; that if he hated his father, he’d have an excuse to never be happy. He was tired of being unhappy, and tired of holding on to the past. He wanted to let go, to move on.

He couldn’t.

“I’m angry at myself because even though I know that, I still can’t forgive you.”

“Maybe if we keep talking…”

“Dad, I don’t know if I’m ready to have a relationship with you,” Curt said. This he could do. He couldn’t forgive. He couldn’t move on. But he could stop defining himself by his father’s failures. Curt Mega wasn’t a colossal fuck-up. Curt Mega wasn’t the son of a killer. Curt Mega deserved his friends, deserved his mom, deserved Owen’s love. He was so much more than the circumstances the world had laid out for him. His father’s gaunt, hopeful face had revealed the truth to him. Curt would never allow himself to be broken again.

“That’s fair, Curtis,” Mr Mega said, but Curt had already stopped listening. “But know when you are ready, I’ll be here. And if you never are…”

Curt shrugged. He’d stopped caring. He felt incredible.

“So, Owen,” Mr Mega said, though his sorry gaze remained fixed on his son. “I presume if you’re here, Curt told you about me. And you didn’t run away. You must be a good friend.”

“I’d like to think so,” Owen said politely. He too was watching Curt.

“I’m glad. I worried that Curt didn’t socialise with other men.”

Curt’s lip curled into a snarl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not a criticism, Curtis,” Mr Mega said defensively. God, his dad was ugly. Not physically. He just looked like any other guy. That’s all he was, really, just any other guy. But Curt could see it in his father’s eyes. Disappointment. His dad _dared_ to be disappointed in him. “It’s just for years, all you had was your mom and that girl Barb that she told me about. You needed a masculine influence in your life.”

“Mom raised me just fine,” Curt snapped.

“I know, son. She was always such a fine woman. I just always worried you’d turn out…”

“What? Gay?”

“I don’t know, Curt,” Mr Mega said, exasperated. “I don’t know anything about you. You never let me get to know my own son.”

“Dad,” Curt said. “Owen is my boyfriend.” It wasn’t courage rising in him. It was indifference.

“...oh.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Curt drolled, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“No, no. Curtis. I don’t mean…” His father stammered. “Let me start over.”

“Owen,” Curt said, taking Owen’s hand and rising to his feet. “I think I want to leave.”

“Wait,” Mr Mega blurted out. “I have gay friends in here.”

Was he _serious_ with that excuse? Was he going to bring up his black friends to excuse a history of voting Republican next? “They’re not your son.”

“Curtis, give me a chance,” Mr Mega pleaded.

“Dad,” Curt said, and he was actually laughing now. This man before him, he was pathetic. Curt couldn’t believe how many years he’d wasted, longing desperately for him. He didn’t need him. And he certainly didn’t need his judgement. “I can see the disappointment on your face! You think you failed me by not being here! That you’ve made your son grow up to be a sissy!”

“You’re my only child.”

“So?” Curt spat.

“So you should be proud, Mr Mega,” Owen said, pushing Curt slightly behind him and getting up in Mr Mega’s face. Not in the same way he did with Jason. Owen was calm and controlled, but full of a quiet fury. He was taller than Mr Mega, who shrunk back as Owen fixed his steely gaze upon him. Owen didn’t get close enough or raise his voice enough to attract the attention of a guard. He was smarter than that. “Your son is the most incredible, funny, caring and strong person I have ever met. And he became all those things without your influence or approval."

Mr Mega tried to look around Owen’s frame to meet Curt’s eye, but Curt wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Life has already been so hard on you, son.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Don’t you want to give your mother grandchildren?” There it was. Curt had been expecting that.

“You have got to be joking.” Curt muttered. He was already inching towards the exit.

“Curtis, please just think about this,” Mr Mega called after him. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful person, Owen, but this is a choice that will affect the rest of your life.”

“This isn’t a choice, dad!” Curt said, his back to his father as he kept walking. Owen followed, taking his hand once more.

“Come on, love, the girls are waiting.”

“Curtis…” Mr Mega tried one last time.

“Goodbye, Larry.”

~~~

Silence enveloped the car. The girls hadn’t asked how the visit had gone and neither Curt nor Owen felt inclined to tell them. They headed into the city for food, where Curt had listened as Barb got Tatiana to describe in great detail the process of being selected for the Russian Olympic fencing team. Curt suspected Barb was trying to bore Curt into talking, but she didn’t press him for information. He respected that.

They’d seen a movie, where Curt and Owen had abandoned the girls to make out in the back row. He’d gone several hours without Owen’s lips on his and his body had needs. A middle-aged couple on a date night without the kids had tutted at them, but Curt didn’t care when Owen’s hand was sneaking up his shirt.

Night had already fallen when they reached the wide expanse of open road. No other cars were in sight, and Barb had made everybody check that their phones had signal just in case they broke down or were kidnapped by deranged hitchhikers. Tatiana was dozing in the front seat, her head lolling forwards though she kept trying to blink herself awake. Owen was watching the world pass by from his window. Curt was watching Owen.

They were on the third CD now, though the final strains of Summer of 69 felt too jubilant for the mood in the car. The song switched to a familiar riff. It was a song his mom used to sing when she dropped him at middle school.

Springsteen’s voice filled the small space. “In the day we sweated out on the streets of a runaway American dream.”

Owen’s knee began bouncing in his seat. Quietly, softly, he began humming along.

“Baby this town rips the bones from your back,” Barb sang under her breath.

“It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap,” Owen joined in.

“Oh, I know this song,” Tatiana said, lifting her sleepy head. Barb began to tap along to the beat on the steering wheel.

Curt didn’t regret a single moment of the day. Not with Owen and the girls, gradually growing giddier to the triumphant strains of The Boss. A weight had been lifted from him. He felt… invincible.

The girls had rolled down their windows; Owen was nodding his head in time with the beat. Overcome, Curt grabbed Owen’s hands in his, squeezing his eyes shut and belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. 

“ _The highway’s jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive!_ ” he sang.

“ _Yes_ Curt!” Barb cried happily.

“ _Everybody’s out on the run tonight but there’s no place left to hide!_ ”

Owen joined in, gurning for all his worth. “Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness, I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul!”

“ _OH-OH!_ ” the girls sang in unison.

“ _I love you guys!_ ” Barb screamed.

“ _Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run!_ ” They sang into the cloudless, welcoming night.

 _Eight days_. They were going to be the best eight days of his life.


	19. Stop Feeling Like I'm Half Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Family stuff kinda got in the way. So yeah, penultimate chapter. Aargh!

**SUNDAY**

“Hello.”

Curt squinted in the low light of the grey morning, his lids heavy with sleep. Owen smiled at him, content, his hair mussed on the pillow. “Hi,” Curt murmured. “What time is it?”

“It’s Sunday,” Owen said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh good,” Curt said, closing his eyes again. “I’m beat.”

Owen shuffled closer, resting his forehead against Curt’s temple. “Sorry, love. I’m pretty knackered myself. Hey,” he huffed out a small chuckle against Curt’s neck. “Did you know that knackered doesn’t just mean tired?”

“Owen,” Curt groaned, “it’s too early for you to teach me words!”

Owen shifted once more, flipping onto his stomach and resting his chin on Curt’s bare chest. “It actually means _sexually exhausted_ ,” he said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrow.

“Guess you are knackered, then,” Curt laughed, but he was so _tired_ still. Travelling always wore him out. Back in middle school, when he still visited the prison, his mom let him sleep in until the evening the next day. He rolled onto his side, breaking the contact with Owen and pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. Spring was threatening its arrival, but it was still damn cold and his mom didn’t want to turn on the heating unnecessarily.

“Curt,” Owen said quietly behind him, “you’re not mad at me, are you? For yesterday?”

“No, of course not!” Curt insisted. He stuck an arm out from beneath his cocoon, reaching blindly for Owen’s own. When he found it, he pulled the arm closer, holding Owen’s hand against his chest, Owen’s face nuzzled against the nape of his neck. “I mean, sure, it wasn’t a nice surprise, but would I have faced him if you hadn’t done that? I don’t think I would.”

“Maybe I need to bring you home with me,” Owen murmured against his skin. “You can back me up with Aunt Sybil.”

“I would if I could.”

“Why can’t you?” Owen said. Curt paused. He bit his lip. He knew exactly what Owen was suggesting, and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m serious!” Owen said, flipping Curt onto his back. He sat up on his knees, a crooked grin growing wide on his face. “You should come visit me!”

“Owen, you know I can’t.” He was too tired for this to happen right now, though he knew it had been coming. This was the thing he wanted more than anything else, to say this wasn’t the end and to know that was true. Hope was cruel, and hope didn’t play by the rules of the real world. Hope didn’t come with money.

“I could help you out,” Owen suggested, and he knew that had been coming too. It made Curt feel small, embarrassed. He imagined meeting Aunt Sybil and her knowing that Owen had paid to bring him there. In her eyes he wouldn’t be Owen’s boyfriend, Owen’s love. He’d just be another expense she could hold over Owen’s head as justification for controlling him. Curt would be _property_.

“No,” Curt said, adamant. “No way. I’m not a charity case.”

“I didn’t mean that, darling.” Of course Owen didn’t mean that, and Curt knew it all too well. But it was easier to have Owen believing Curt valued his selfish pride, than to confess the shame in his heart.

“I know you didn’t, it’s just…” Curt raked a hand through his messy hair, sighing loudly. “Money’s a sensitive subject, okay? I’m never gonna be over you paying my hospital bills. I’d love to visit you but I don’t want to be any further in your debt.”

“You’re not in my debt,” Owen insisted, his hands awkwardly resting on his bare thighs. Of all the ways Curt thought he’d bring up the subject of his medical expenses, he didn’t expect it to be when they were both naked and he was getting a headache. “I’m not asking for any of it back.”

“It still feels uncomfortable,” Curt said quietly.

“Okay, I won’t bring it up again,” Owen said, getting off the bed. He reached blindly for the first item of clothing he could find, and shrugged on Curt’s letterman jacket to combat the cold chill.

He’d blown it now. _The best seven days of my life, apparently_. He thought bitterly. He dragged himself to a seated position, watching through fuzzy vision as Owen searched in the pile of laundry for underwear. He needed an aspirin. He needed more sleep. He needed Owen back in the bed as soon as possible. “Can we…” he started. He licked his dry lips, waiting for Owen to look at him. “Can we not spend our last week arguing?”

“Only if we can stop talking about it being our last week,” Owen said, ditching the pile and returning to the bed. “I want to pretend like nothing is going to change. Is that okay?”

“Deal.”

~~~

**MONDAY**

“Good morning!” Barb called out from the driver’s seat. Even in the biting wind, her voice was unnaturally loud and high-pitched. Curt wrapped his jacket tightly around himself, head dipped low against the light rain as he jogged to the passenger side, where Tatiana had already stepped out, her own jacket held up over her head.

“Barb, it’s Monday,” Curt said, climbing in the back seat. “And it’s raining. Why are you so chipper?”

“Because I’m with my boys and my Tati,” Barb said with a forced grin plastered across her face. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “And we’re going to have the best day!”

“She is trying to disguise her sadness with enthusiasm,” Tatiana said, pushing the seat back as Owen buckled himself in next to Curt. He, at least, didn’t seem fazed by the dreary weather, although a few strands of damp hair stuck to his forehead.

“ _Tati!_ ” Barb hissed.

“She is sad that this is our last Monday together,” Tatiana continued, ignoring Barb’s warning. Barb huffed, putting the car in drive and pressing a little too hard on the accelerator.

A silence quickly settled over the car after Barb relaxed her speed, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as Tatiana traced shapes in the condensation of her window. Owen stared out at the rain, his hand limply in Curt’s between them on the passenger seat. The radio was turned low, and the voices of the presenters kept giving way to static as the wind blew harshly against the tiny vehicle. The windscreen wipers swiped furiously, and Curt watched their movement blankly. 

“We’re not going to be like this all week, are we?” He asked finally, after hearing Tatiana sigh for the third time.

“We made a pact that we would make this week as normal as possible,” Owen said.

“I’m normal!” Barb insisted. “Look at me, driving, like normal.”

“Barb,” Owen said. “You’ve been driving with your indicator on since we got in the car.”

“Oh shoot!”

~~~

“Hey there, cowboy!” Curt groaned at the unmistakable accent as Owen shrugged his soaked jacket off his shoulders and bundled it into Curt’s locker. He looked up to see Dick Big, looking pristine amongst a miserable and damp student body, striding with confidence down the hall. Beside him, letterman jacket thrown over one shoulder, carton of milk in hand, and wearing a white vest despite the weather, Kevin Derry scowled as they approached.

“Hey Dick,” Curt said. “ _Kevin_ ,” he added with a scowl.

“Hey,” Kevin said. He rolled his eyes and took a swig of the milk. Curt remembered all those times Kevin told him he would never be a great wrestler if he only got his calcium from pizza. He remembered how he could taste the milk when he kissed Kevin. God, he hated this guy.

Owen nudged his side and Curt forced a quick, fake smile in Kevin’s direction.

“Say,” Dick said, taking off his stetson and holding it against his chest. “Do you and your fine gentleman have any plans this Friday evening?”

“We were kinda gonna spend it together.”

“Oh bullhonky, no you ain’t!” Dick roared, making the small gang of freshmen girls passing jump and shriek. Normally, Dick would follow them professing his apologies for behaving raucously, but this time he kept on, excitement building in his voice. “We’re having a farewell party at the Diner for all the exchange students, and I would be honoured if you would attend.”

“Dick,” Curt said. “You haven’t spoken to your exchange partner in three months.”

“Can you blame him?” Kevin scoffed. “Dude’s a straight-up Nazi sympathiser!”

“ _Kevin_!”

“What?” Kevin shrugged, sloshing a few drops of milk onto the floor. “He is!”

“I know, sweetstuff,” Dick said in a whisper. “but I don’t want everyone else to know that! Anywho,” he said, turning his attention back to Curt. He gestured grandly with his stetson in hand, in that way he did when he was trying to sound overly-courteous, “it would be great if you both can join us, along with the delightful Russian and Miss Barbara.”

“Does he always talk like this?” Owen said under his breath. 

Kevin laughed. “Even in bed.”

“Okay Kevin,” Dick said, quickly and a little too loudly. He pushed against Kevin’s chest to turn him away. “Let’s go, before I tell these fine men about your _stamp collection_! Have a good day, y’all!”

~~~

**TUESDAY**

Miss Houston was on one of her many failed attempts to give up smoking again. That was clear from the five nicotine patches plastered to her arms. Her hand shook a little as she wrote on the board, and her voice was even more irritable than usual. Not that Curt paid any attention to that. His knee was bouncing under his desk, and he tapped his pen noisily against his desk. Owen kept shooting him a concerned look, but didn’t say anything, most likely in fear of a retaliation if he spoke out of turn from the pint-sized terror that took their class.

“So the final assignment you little shits have to complete before the exchange is over is a personal essay…” Miss Houston said, stretching up onto her toes to reach the top of the board.

“Why don’t we get to swap?” Curt said.

“Mr Mega, don’t interrupt,” Miss Houston snapped, not turning away from the board. “As I was saying…”

But Curt didn’t feel like staying quiet that morning. A thought had plagued him for weeks, but only now was he giving voice to it. He was already about to lose everything, why should he care about the consequences? “Why don’t we get to swap, Miss Houston?” he said more loudly, and slowly, filling each word with barely-contained spite.

“ _Mega…_ ” Miss Houston warned. She slammed the chalk down and it crumbled into pieces.

“No, okay?” Curt continued. Beside him Owen raked a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. “This is bullshit! This is an exchange programme, isn’t it? Where’s the exchange?”

“Oh lordy,” Dick muttered, “please don’t send me to Germany.”

Miss Houston approached his desk, eyes narrowed. “As the school has explained to your parents already, we don’t have the budget.”

“Then find it!” Curt yelled, rising to his feet. He stared down at Miss Houston. His skin felt hot with anger. He half heard Sergio saying something about making a scene but he blocked it out. “Why shouldn’t we get the chance to go?”

“Mega, sit down!” Miss Houston ordered, but Curt was already grabbing his bag.

Owen tugged on Curt’s sleeve gently. “Curt, stop it.”

“No! This is fucked!” He ripped his hoodie from the back of his chair, sending it toppling to the floor.

“Mr Mega,” Miss Houston roared. “If you curse in this classroom again you will have detention for the rest of your fucking life!”

“Oh, fuck you, hypocrite!” Curt screamed, slamming the classroom door behind him.

~~~

He’d made it as far as the football field before he heard Owen’s voice behind him. Well, that was a lie. He’d heard Owen calling after him all the way from the hallway, but he only acknowledged it now. The rain was still falling, and the field was abandoned. Curt’s hair plastered to his forehead; he’d forgotten to put up his hood. He could feel the water seeping in his shoes and his feet squelching in the mud. He didn’t care.

“Curt…” Owen said softly, a hand on his shoulder.

Curt knew he was crying, even if the tears were indistinguishable from the raindrops. He turned quickly, slipping a little in the mud and falling heavily against Owen’s chest. He pressed his face against the fabric of Owen’s t-shirt - Owen’s jacket was still in his locker - clutching at the material on Owen’s back.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” he sobbed.

“We have to, love,” Owen said softly. He lifted Curt’s face to kiss him. Curt could taste the rain on Owen’s lips. His eyes fell closed, droplets gathering on his lashes as the weather drenched them both. The thunder of the downpour drowned out the distant sounds of the school, and in that moment he felt safe again. The world washed away in the storm. He shivered, finally feeling the cold.

“Love, you’ll catch your death out here,” Owen said softly against his lips.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Curt said desperately.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Owen said, clutching him tightly. “I promise. I’m not giving up on us.”

~~~

**WEDNESDAY**

Somehow they’d avoided catching a cold. Mrs Mega took the credit, for overdosing them on vitamin C when they came home sodden, not returning to class. That Wednesday, the rain finally relented, leaving the day grey and overcast before the last of the clouds departed. They went to school in Mrs Mega’s car that morning, with Curt’s supposed apology giving way to his mom giving Miss Houston a piece of her mind about the school failing their students. Miss Houston suggested Mrs Mega pay for Curt to visit the UK herself. Miss Houston knew about their financial situation.

Miss Houston was a complete bitch.

They’d gone for dinner at the Diner that night, Curt horrified when Mrs Mega blushed at Dick Big Sr’s flirtatious welcome. The diner was busy, the whole town seemingly celebrating a break in the weather, and they found a small table just outside the bathrooms. Dick Big Sr apologised profusely for seating a fine woman in such a spot, offering to take 50% off their bill in recompense.

“So how long is the flight home, Owen?” Mrs Mega asked, sipping her coffee.

“Around eight hours.”

“Oh honey,” she smiled, resting a dainty hand on top of Owen’s. “I’ll make you some sandwiches.”

“Mom, I think there’ll be food on the flight,” Curt said around a mouthful of fries.

“Yes, Curtis,” Mrs Mega said, “but it won’t be as good as my meatball marinara footlongs.”

“She has a point, Curt.”

“And when can we expect to see you back?” she asked, lacing her fingers together and resting them under her chin.

Owen glanced warily at Curt. Curt sucked a long gulp of milkshake through his straw and avoided Owen’s gaze. “Umm… I…”

“Yes, I know you’re moving to Scotland,” Mrs Mega said dismissively. “But you’re allowed a vacation! Maybe you can come next Christmas?”

“Mom, he has his own family,” Curt muttered. They’d agreed, out there in the rain, not to get their hopes up. Their solution wasn’t going to be making promises they couldn’t keep. Curt had spent the previous evening pricing up flights and working out just how many part-time jobs it would take to save the funds.

“Anyone would think you boys _don’t_ want to stay together,” Mrs Mega joked.

“It’s not that, mom. We just-” Curt knew Owen’s own situation was even more complicated. He could visit, sure. He had the money to visit. Hell, he’d offered to pay for Curt’s flights just days ago. But Aunt Sybil still controlled his money. Aunt Sybil who still didn’t know he was gay. 

“We don’t want to get our hopes up for something that might not work out,” Owen said.

“Oh it will. You boys trust me, okay?” Mrs Mega smiled. She took out her purse, busying herself with counting out the bills to pay for their meal. “I know what’s best for my Curtis and this is what’s best.” She looked up again, warmly. “Any time you want to visit, Owen, our home is yours.”

~~~

**THURSDAY**

“How are we going to decorate our apartment?” The park was abandoned, the ground still sodden and the air still bitingly cold. Curt rocked back and forth on the swing, his sneakers scuffing the floor. The seat was dry but an occasional droplet fell from the structure onto his head with his movements.

Owen looked at him with a mixture of confusion, concern and amusement as he dug his hands in his pockets. “Did you hit your head?”

“Indulge me in some fantasy,” Curt said, gesturing to the swing next to him. Owen wiped at the seat with a glove and sat, wrapping his arms around the chain. “We’re getting a little apartment together in Edinburgh so you can go to the university of your dreams.”

Owen started to swing, a wistful smile growing on his face. “We live in the Old Town, close to Grassmarket for all the culture and pubs, but quiet enough to be alone.”

“You’re top of the class and I work in a bar to pay our bills.”

Owen laughed. “Dream bigger, darling.”

“No, I’d like to work in a bar,” Curt said, picking up his swing. “I’d be in a country where I can legally drink. I’d _live_ in a bar.”

“You come and meet me after your shift at the library and we walk home through the meadows at night,” Owen continued. Curt swung high and leapt off, his feet landing in the mud and splashing all over his jeans. He didn’t care. He walked up to Owen, taking his hand away from the chain and pulling him to his feet.

“Scotland’s cold and I forget my gloves,” he said, and slid his hands inside Owen’s jacket, “so you let me warm my hands inside your coat.”

Owen smiled. “Tatiana and Barb come to visit us every summer and I volunteer at the festival.”

“Mom spends Christmas with us,” Curt said, as Owen held his hips. “She knits us a blanket as a gift that we use when we fall asleep on the couch together.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Owen?” Curt said quietly.

“Yes, love?”

“Life isn’t fair.”

~~~

**FRIDAY**

As they approached Big’s Diner, Curt was certain he heard the chorus of Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy and almost suggested they go back home there and then. Owen linked their arms and pulled him forward. He wore a white shirt printed with blue flowers that Curt had never seen him wear before. It looked amazing.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” Dick cried as they stepped through the doors. He and Kevin seemed to have formed some sort of welcoming committee. Inside, the lights had been lowered, and Curt could barely see the tables for the mass of bodies who seemed to be dancing along with the novelty country record without a trace of irony.

“Jesus Christ, Dick,” Curt yelled over the noise. “Did you invite the whole school?”

“Almost,” Kevin said, leaning in and raising his voice. “We’re very popular now. Unlike some people,” he added in a mocking tone.

“Are you ever going to like me, Kevin?” Curt groaned.

Owen grinned wickedly. “He must have liked what you did to him…”

Dick nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “He is good, isn’t he?”

“Oh my god,” Curt cried, dragging Owen away. “I’m finding the girls.”

They wrestled through a mass of people, past Sergio and Maria grinding on each other, past Baron tearing up napkins in a booth, past Feurgin dancing on a table and stripping away his shirt. They found the girls close to the speakers, where Clark and Pierce were arguing over the playlist. Tatiana was supporting Barb’s weight as she whooped and hollered.

“ _Curt_!” Barb cried, grabbing him in a messy hug. “My Curt!”

“Barb is drunk.” Tatiana deadpanned.

Barb wrapped an arm around Curt’s waist, and reached to pull Tatiana in by her other side. “I’m with my buds. I love my buds.”

“We love you too, Barb,” Curt laughed.

“Hey, hey Curt!” she slurred, releasing Tatiana to slap a hand against his chest. “Guess what?”

“What is it, Barb?”

“I’m going to visit Tati!” she squealed.

“Not exactly,” Tatiana said, taking a sip from her red solo cup.

“Okay, sure,” Barb shrugged, still not releasing her grip on Curt. “I’m not going to Russia. But it’s close enough!”

“Barb applied for a science summer programme in Poland and she found out that she was accepted this morning,” Tatiana explained, handing Owen a drink. “We are going to meet there for a few weeks.”

“That is so cool!” Curt said.

“Congratulations, Barb!” Owen concurred.

“Owen!” Barb said excitedly, releasing Curt and grabbing Owen in a hug. “Maybe you can fly over too! And Curt…” She fell silent, the redness in her face only exacerbated by the disco lights. Tatiana suddenly found her feet very interesting. Owen looked apologetically at him.

“Don’t worry,” Curt said, even if he did feel about two feet tall. “I plan to spend my summer working.” _Saving_ , he thought. “In fact, is Dick’s dad here? Maybe there’s a job going.”

“Not now, Curt,” Owen said, pulling him in for a dance. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

~~~

“And so, on behalf of the entire student body, we say thank you and goodbye,” Sergio proclaimed. There was no stage in the diner. No microphone. He just stood on the serving counter and hollered over the masses, swaying a little with drunkenness. “Feurgin, you’re a weird man, my man, but I like you. And Maria!” He cried, gesturing to where the petite Mexican girl perched on one of the stools, looking up at him adoringly. “ _Ay dios mio_! Maria, my love.”

“Get on with it!” Kevin yelled from the back of the room.

“ _Lo siento,_ ” Sergio said. “We’ve all made friends these past few months, and a few of us more than friends. That’s right, I see you Curt Mega!” He cheered, pointing at the back corner where Curt was busy ignoring the speech by making out with Owen against a wall. Curt wiped his mouth sheepishly as the crowds turned to look at them. 

“Put the music back on!” Kevin shouted again.

“Alright, alright! I try to do a heartfelt speech and this is the response I get. _Hasta luego_ , so long, farewell et cetera.” Sergio held his cup triumphantly in the air. “Let’s get wasted!”

~~~

“Isn’t it weird?” Curt said into Owen’s ear, swaying to the gentle melody of Cyndi Lauper. “Just two months ago I could never imagine slow dancing with another dude, never mind one I was in love with.”

“Life’s full of surprises,” Owen said, nuzzling his cheek.

“ _If you fall, I will catch you, I will be waiting,_ ” Cyndi sang.

“Any regrets?” Owen’s hand was warm on the small of his back. He smelt of Curt’s own coconut body wash. It was intoxicating.

“Just one,” Owen said, his eyes closed. “Not telling you how I felt sooner. You?”

Curt lifted his head, smirking. “Dick Big. Obviously.”

“And almost breaking your neck,” Owen added.

“Okay! I brought the drama!” Curt quickly pecked Owen’s lips, and the room full of people faded away. He imagined they were moving through a starlit sky, dancing in a galaxy all their own, where nothing could hurt them, could never tear them apart. _Two more days_. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I love you, Curt Mega.”

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been more nervous to finish something in my life.


	20. Your Memory Will Carry On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my friends, this is the end. All I can say is please make sure you read the end notes.

Morning broke, and with it, every shred of Curt Mega’s resolve. His fumbling hands clutched at Owen’s arms, his hips, his back, every touch a reassurance that no, it wasn’t over yet. They still had _time_. Owen calmed him with soft whispers, light kisses, a hand in his hair, until Curt dozed once more, content. But then Curt would wake up again, desperately seeking out Owen’s warmth once more, terrified of the prospect of finding it gone. Owen repeated his name like a prayer, caressing every inch of skin he could find as Curt buried his face in Owen’s chest, whispering “I love you” like a mantra over Owen’s heart.

Mrs Mega left them there for a long time, busying herself with quiet housework. The smell of waffles invaded the room but she didn’t call them for breakfast. The clock ticked on, from nine, to ten, to eleven, their only movement in that time the rearrangement of their bodies to be even closer to each other. They reeked of the night before’s sweat, and stale beer, and the second-hand smoke that lingered in the Diner’s entrance. They didn’t care.

Noon brought with it a parting. Reluctantly, at the sound of a honk on the street below, they detangled their limbs and threw on the first clothes they could find. Curt found himself in Owen’s red t-shirt, stretched tight across his broader chest, and Owen told him to keep it. Mrs Mega watched them sadly as they left the apartment hand in hand, slowly descending the stairwell. Curt’s free hand trailed the cold, chipped plaster of the walls, anchoring him to the moment.

It was a bright day as they stepped outside, the first true hints of spring’s arrival. The air smelt like fresh grass, even in the industrial, impersonal neighbourhood Curt lived in. Curt raised a hand to shield his eyes against the glare of the sun bouncing off the car’s windscreen. Leaning against the Mini, arms folded tight against her chest, was Tatiana.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” she said, her voice monotone, “before I go to the airport.”

Curt approached the car slowly, Owen following behind him. He peered in the driver’s side window to see Barb still buckled in her seat, taking deep, steady breaths with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Barb,” Owen said softly, knocking on the window. Barb rolled it down reluctantly. “Barb, are we a team?”

“Yes,” Barb muttered.

“Then we do this together.”

At that, Barb flung herself out of the car, leaving the door wide open, and enveloped Owen in a tight hug.

“Barb!” Owen laughed, “my flight isn’t until tomorrow!”

“I know,” Barb cried, “but I’m not taking that time away from Curt! This is our goodbye!”

Curt smiled a little at the sight, and turned to where Tatiana was still cooly staring into space.

“What time’s your flight?” he asked.

“It will be in four hours,” she answered, her expression hidden behind her dark sunglasses. “We are travelling to the airport now.”

“Wow,” Curt sighed. “Well, I’m going to miss you.”

“She is special,” Tatiana said, nodding over to Barb, who was still tightly squeezing Owen. “They both are. Please take care of her.”

“I always do,” Curt said.

“And take care of yourself,” Tatiana added. She removed her sunglasses; her eyes were red. “Losing this will hurt, but at least you got to have it.”

“ _Tati_ -”

He was interrupted by a tight embrace. The words tumbled out of Tatiana quickly, her tears soaking through his clothes. “I’m scared, Curt. I don’t want to go back.” What was he supposed to say to that? What did he know about the fear, the pain, of being a lesbian in Russia? What could he do but uselessly pat her back and make soothing noises?

“Tati?” Owen said, and the moment was broken. Curt had no advice for her, no help. In his final moments with one of his best friends, he’d let her down. Tatiana unfurled herself from Curt’s embrace and walked away from the car to talk in whispers with Owen. Yes, Owen would have answers. Owen was always so smart, so dependable, Owen had the answers to everything.

Owen was leaving tomorrow.

Barb tucked up against Curt’s side, watching their friends’ goodbye.

“Do you know why I love technology?” she said softly. Curt shot her a confused look. “Technology mean this doesn’t have to be goodbye. Not forever.”

Technology didn’t keep him warm and safe in his bed every night. Technology didn’t make his body vibrate with pleasure at it’s touch. Technology wasn’t _love_.

~~~

Tatiana was somewhere over the ocean. Curt had angled his desktop screen towards the bed, and they watched the flight tracker in silence, lay on their sides, Owen spooning him from behind. Owen left feather-light kisses on Curt’s shoulder, humming out a soft, soothing tune. It was only an hour later that Curt recognised it as the David Bowie song they’d danced to all those weeks ago.

It would take Tatiana almost half a day to fly to Moscow, and she had a connection to make. They left the flight tracker on the screen, but soon it was forgotten in the tangle of limbs, the feeling of their hot breath on each other’s skin, Owen’s touch sending shivers down Curt’s spine. Curt had always found the phrase “making love” so corny, so embarrassing. It had reminded him of the romance novels his mom read. Why couldn’t they just say “sex”? Or “fucking”? That's all it was, right?

Now he could tell the difference.

“Owen?” Curt whispered against Owen’s collarbone, as Owen lay back against the pillow, catching his breath.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Owen said, gathering Curt up in his arms. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I don’t know,” Curt sobbed. “Circumstances, I guess.”

There were tears in Owen’s eyes too. “They’re not your fault.”

“I know,” Curt said. “But I’m still sorry.”

“Me too, Curt. Me too.”

~~~

“Okay, what are our options?” Curt asked, rubbing his damp hair in a towel. They’d finally showered when Owen’s stomach hadn’t stopped rumbling, lured by the tempting smell of Mrs Mega’s cooking.

“We could always do a Civil Partnership?” Owen said, pulling on a t-shirt. “Get you that Green Card.”

Curt’s heart fluttered, even though he knew Owen wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? “Owen Carvour, are you asking me to marry you?”

“I was joking, Curt,” Owen laughed. Curt tried not to pay attention to the fact that Owen now put his laundry directly into his suitcase instead of the basket. “Plus, it’s technically not marriage. We’re not allowed to call it that.” His eyes flicked to the flight tracker. Tatiana had reached Helsinki, where she was to make her connection. “You could reconsider my offer…”

“I’m not taking your money, Owen,” Curt said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Curt, I don’t _need_ it!” Owen insisted, rounding the bed to hug Curt from behind. “Is your pride really more important than seeing each other again?”

“What will your Aunt Sybil think?” Curt asked, his damp hair pressing against Owen’s cheek.

“Fuck Aunt Sybil,” Owen said. He pecked Curt quickly on the ear then let go, grabbing a sock and searching the room for another.

“Owen, she has so much control over your life already. I’m not giving her any more leverage.”

“Then what?” Owen sighed. He looked ridiculous, gesturing in exasperation with a single sock flailing in his grip. “We just never see each other again? Is that what you want?”

“I’ll find a job!” Curt said. He threw the sodden towel into a far corner. “Flights aren’t that expensive!”

Owen smiled a little. “And I can fly out here whenever…”

“It’ll be like we were never apart.”

“Except it won’t be,” Owen said, shaking his head. He gave up, grabbing a mismatched sock and perching on the end of the bed to put them on. “Think about it, Curt. Our lives won’t just stop whenever we’re apart, waiting for the next time we see each other. We have responsibilities, friends, colleges…”

“So?”

“So!” Owen cried, throwing his hands in the air. They uselessly fell into his lap. Owen looked down at his thumbs, his voice so quiet Curt had to strain to hear it. “So what if you meet someone else?”

“I won’t,” Curt insisted.

“But what if you _do_? Or I do?” he raked a hand through his own damp hair. “Someone who can be there all the time.”

“Owen, why are you talking about this now?” Curt snapped. He felt frustration and anger building inside him, all the emotions he promised himself he wouldn't give into.

“I want us to be prepared!”

“Do you?” Curt asked, eyebrow raised. His stomach was churning. While the smell of food was once inviting, he’d now lost his appetite. “Do you really? Or do you want to end this?”

“No,” Owen whispered, “of course I don’t.”

Curt got on his knees before Owen, cupping his face with his hands. “Then stop ruining our last few hours together by thinking of all the ways we won’t work out and start acting like we will!”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Owen said, eyes brimming. “My head is just swimming with all these possibilities and…”

“Owen, I _need_ you to not freak out on me right now. What did you tell Barb?”

“We’re a team.” Owen said quietly.

“That’s right. We’re a team. We’ll face tomorrow and whatever comes after as a team, okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~

“Owen, honey,” Mrs Mega said, “your aunt emailed me. She said she had been trying to get in touch with you.”

Owen looked up from where he’d been pushing his food around his plate with his fork. “I’ve not checked my phone.”

“I understand, sweetie,” Mrs Mega smiled. She looked almost as heartbroken as they felt. “She said for you to check your email.”

Owen pushed himself away from the table without a word, stalking into Curt’s bedroom, his expression stony. Curt and his mom followed behind with caution. When they reached Curt’s room, Owen had already cancelled the flight tracker and logged onto his emails.

“What is it?” Curt asked.

Owen stared blankly at the screen. “I got accepted to St. Andrew’s,” he said. He closed the browser. “That’s that, then.”

“Congratulations,” Mrs Mega said, but nobody felt like celebrating.

~~~

Mrs Mega waited in the car. As they approached the entrance of the airport, they were passed by Sergio and Maria, hand in hand and smiling. Their parting was only temporary, and neither noticed them. Owen dragged his suitcase behind him, Curt shouldering his carry-on luggage. Owen turned back, offering one last wave to Mrs Mega, who honked her horn in response.

The airport bustled with activity. Owen found his flight number on the board, and grabbed Curt’s arm, pulling him away from the busy entrance and queues to check in. They both leaned against the counter of a car rental place that didn’t open on Sundays, offering a little breathing space.

Curt drummed his fingers against the counter awkwardly. Owen caught his hand, intertwining their fingers. “So, I wanted to do the whole ‘running through the airport after you’ thing,” Curt said, trying to keep his voice light, “but I didn’t want to be murdered by security.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be the best plan,” Owen huffed out a laugh.

Curt wiped at his mouth with his free hand. He was trembling. There was no more pretending, no more avoidance. Three months were over and there was nothing he could do to change it. “I can’t believe this is really it.”

“We always knew it was coming, love,” Owen said softly.

“It doesn’t make this any less hard.” Curt’s voice cracked. Tears brimmed in his eyes and he tried to blink them away. They weren’t alone in the privacy of his bedroom or the bunker anymore. They’d lost the opportunity to be vulnerable. “Oh, hang on. I bought you something,” he said, rummaging in his pocket with his free hand. He pulled out a small object wrapped in clear plastic and handed it to Owen.

Owen turned it over in his hand. A keyring, with an eagle, a flag, and the word “AMERICA!” blazoned across it in all capitals. It was the most obnoxious thing Curt could find at short notice. No gift would ever seem like enough; he figured the joke present would make him feel less bad about that. “This is..." he paused, and laughed, "let’s be honest. It’s shit. I love it.”

“I figured it’d be a fun souvenir to show Aunt Sybil,” Curt shrugged.

“So… what happens now?” Owen asked.

“I was hoping you’d decide to let my mom adopt you so you could stay,” Curt said with a smirk.

“Then we’d be brothers,” Owen laughed.

“ _Kinky_.”

“ _Curt_ ,” Owen said fondly. He reached for Curt’s face, to cup his cheek, but glanced nervously at the crowds, and lowered his hand. “No, really. I’m going to a different continent, love.”

“I know.”

“And I know I could come back for holidays.”

“But it won’t be the same,” Curt said, not needing to wait for Owen to finish.

“I know yesterday, we said we’d try. Curt, I _want_ to try,” Owen’s eyes were desperate, searching. In them, Curt could read all the things he wanted to say. How he’d never give up on them. How this was more than just first, teenage love. This was special. This was worth fighting for. It was all the things Curt wanted to say too. It was unrealistic. “But it could never be enough.”

“ _I know_ ,” Curt said, and let go of Owen’s hand.

Owen shoved his hands deep in his jeans pockets, looking down at the floor. “It’s not fair, on either of us, to wait for one another.”

“Four years of college,” Curt nodded. “It’s a long time.”

“And we both have so much to experience. Making new friends. Meeting new people.”

Curt sighed, as the first of his tears fell. “We can’t survive this, can we?”

“No,” Owen said. “I’m not sure we can.”

“Well,” Curt furiously wiped away the tear, taking in a deep breath. “I guess this is goodbye. I should probably think of something poignant to say.” 

“Don’t strain yourself,” Owen joked.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Curt said fondly. He straightened his back, meeting Owen’s eyes. “I guess… Thank you. You changed my life, for the better.”

“You too,” Owen said softly.

“I’ll never forget you.”

“You might,” Owen said, and Curt’s heart was in his mouth. In all of the scenarios he’d imagined, whether it was them united or parted, happy or heartbroken, he’d never imagined a life without Owen in it. He’d never thought the intensity of these feelings could change. He never thought he’d move on. He couldn't forget; it was impossible. “You’ll remember my name maybe. Remember me being your first. But we’ll grow and we’ll change, and eventually, we won’t think about each other.” 

“I guess,” Curt muttered. _Be realistic, Mega,_ he thought. _When has first love ever lasted?_

“But one day,” Owen continued, dipping his head to whisper in Curt’s ear, “when you’re old, you’ll look back on photos of us and the girls and remember feeling happy. Forgetting me, but not the time.”

“Okay,” Curt sobbed, reluctantly pushing Owen away with a hand on his chest. He would not break down here, not in this airport with all these strangers watching. This moment was not for them. “Okay, you need to check in before I embarrass myself. I should go.”

Owen’s expression transitioned from hurt, to desperately sad, to eerily blank. “Goodbye, Curt,” he said finally, gathering up his bag.

“Goodbye, Owen,” Curt whispered, and watched as Owen turned, pulling his suitcase towards the check-in desk.

 _No_ , he thought. _No, this isn’t right. Goddamnit, Mega, don’t do this to yourself._

He was running before he even realised his feet were moving. Owen’s name tore from his lips in a desperate cry. Owen turned, dropping his bag just in time for Curt to crash into his arms, up on his toes, capturing his lips in a ferocious, hungry kiss. Owen clutched at him fiercely, his eyes falling closed as he held Curt closer. Curt sucked on his lower lip, hands tangled in his hair, body pressed up against him. He trembled with fury and with fear and pain.

Curt broke the kiss, holding Owen’s face in his hands. His eyes were wild, searching Owen’s expression for something, anything, that would give him hope. “I love you so much!” he cried. “I’m not going to forget. I promise!”

“Oh god, Curt,” Owen sobbed. “I love you too. You’re everything to me.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Curt said.

“And I don’t want to go.”

“Please, just kiss me,” he begged, before Owen claimed his lips once more. The crowd that had gathered around them meant nothing. The old man who muttered “faggots” as he passed meant nothing. Time meant nothing. This was their moment. If Curt could freeze time, be trapped in this endless, infinite love...

He heard the last call for check-in on Owen’s flight.

“Go,” he whispered against Owen’s lips.

“Curt…” Owen began.

“ _Go_ ,” Curt said again, resting a trembling hand on Owen’s chest. “Go be smart and succeed at everything and change the world.”

Owen nodded, blinking back tears. “Promise me you’ll believe in yourself. I believe in you.”

“I love you,” Curt said.

“I love you,” Owen said back. Curt watched him gather up his belongings, approach the desk, and then he was gone.

~~~

He hadn’t tidied up the bunker. The pillows and blankets were still there from the party, from their first time, from the many times after that. Curt kicked at a cushion, watching blankly as it toppled over. The batteries of the fairy lights had long since run out, leaving him in almost darkness. He was okay with that.

The days were warming up, but the nights were still cold. How cold would it be in London? What time was it there? Owen would surely be back there by now. Would he let Curt know that he had landed? Did he already feel as naked and empty and alone as Curt did?

Curt shivered, grabbing at a blanket to wrap around himself. A familiar black material appeared beneath it. Owen’s jacket.

He pulled the jacket over his shoulders, hugging his knees. He could smell Owen in the fabric. How long would that last? How long could a scent linger? How long until he'd forget the softness of Owen's lips, the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the tickle of that strand of hair that always fell in his face? Would he be happy, at his fancy university with people with money, _his_ people? Would Curt just become a story to amuse them? The poor American boy who'd helped him pass the time in that shitty little nowhere town he'd been sent to? He'd realise that it hadn't been love, just a fling, an infatuation. It couldn't be love between them, the world didn't work that way. His new friends would be intelligent and well-read, and they would travel, and one of them would catch Owen's eye and they'd be perfect for each other. Owen deserved someone perfect for him. Someone who could keep up with him, who would never let him down. Curt always let people down. He could have accepted the money. He could have fought harder. He was weak, and Owen would realise that. Maybe he had already. Maybe in the darkest nights, he'd return in Owen's memory, nothing more than a face from long ago, from a time before they grew up; moved on. Remember, _whatever_...

In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He never usually got a signal in the bunker. He sighed, supposing he should probably let his mom or Barb know he was safe. They would have been calling. They’d be worried.

His heart stopped at the sight of the name on his screen.

_Just landed. Do you have a webcam?_

**barb has a spare, y?**

_I’m not ready to lose you yet. Want to give long distance a try?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final notes:
> 
> First of all, thank you all for sticking with this. I’m not kidding when I say this is the first time I’ve written creatively in ages so the positive response to this fic really means a lot to me. Spies has been the best fandom experience I’ve had in years and I love you all.
> 
> So I wanted to use these final end notes to point out a few things and thank a few people.
> 
> As is pretty obvious, each chapter is named for a 2000s emo/pop punk lyric (except chapter 6, sorry!), since it is my hc that Curt listens exclusively to pop punk. (It doesn’t come up much here but Owen is a Britpop fan.) The songs:  
> Chapter 1: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage - Panic! At the Disco  
> Chapter 2: Give Me Novocaine - Green Day  
> Chapter 3: 7 Minutes In Heaven - Fall Out Boy  
> Chapter 4: Dance Dance - Fall Out Boy  
> Chapter 5: But It’s Better If You Do - Panic! At the Disco  
> Chapter 6: Reptilia - The Strokes  
> Chapter 7: Homecoming - Green Day  
> Chapter 8: Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off - Panic! At the Disco  
> Chapter 9: She’s A Rebel - Green Day  
> Chapter 10: Dirty Little Secret - All American Rejects  
> Chapter 11: Sugar, We’re Going Down - Fall Out Boy  
> Chapter 12: Camisado - Panic! At the Disco  
> Chapter 13: I Miss You - Blink 182  
> Chapter 14: crushcrushcrush - Paramore  
> Chapter 15: Coming Clean - Green Day  
> Chapter 16: First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes  
> Chapter 17: Sharpest Lives - My Chemical Romance  
> Chapter 18: Night Drive - All American Rejects  
> Chapter 19: Motown Never Sounded So Good - Less Than Jake  
> Chapter 20: Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance
> 
> Other notes: Russia achieved one Gold medal in fencing at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, in the women’s team event. Presuming Tatiana was on that team, OUR GIRL IS GONNA BE A GOLD MEDALLIST!
> 
> It took me a while to decide when exactly in the 2000s this fic was taking place. I finally settled on 2007 when I discovered all the greatest vintage viral videos and memes took place in 2007. It also means they were 18 when I was, so I didn’t have to do as much research!
> 
> So, the ending. It was initially inspired by the ending of the film Weekend (which is beautiful and you should all watch it). The point was for Curt and Owen to have had this incredible, life-changing but fleeting thing, and to go their separate ways when it was over. It was also going to be inspired by the final lyric of Whatsername from American Idiot, “forgetting you, but not the time”. Initially, it was going to end after the scene in the airport with Owen walking away. They were never going to see each other again. It was going to be a story of first love, but reinforce that first love often doesn’t last. Also, the line "remember, whatever..." while taken from Whatsername, was supposed to recall the Coldest Goodbye (Reprise).
> 
> But that is cruel, sad, and the more I wrote it, the more I loved Teen Curt and Owen and wanted them to get a happy ending. SO SEQUEL HOOK BABY! I don’t know when I’m going to get round to the sequel but it is happening. UNIVERSITY ADVENTURES! Plus at some point I’m gonna post the cut NSFW scene so we’re not done yet!
> 
> Also, the whole chapter was going to be named after a Whatsername lyric before I realised I'd gone through this whole thing without using Welcome to the Black Parade.
> 
> Finally, a huge thank you to everyone on the SAF Discord who cheered me on writing this, even though they were responsible for the unexpected megbig tangent and the creation of my sassy son Kevin Derry. I love you guys.


End file.
